Date: Sat, 7 Mar 2009 09:13:44 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mystery and Mayhem at St Mark's Sequel 03

		      Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's
				 A Sequel

				    by

				   Joel

          Seq. 3:

             Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned:
Mark Henry Foster           The story-teller:  Pennefather Organ Scholar
Tristan (Tris) Price-Williams  His well-proportioned boyfriend.  At College of Law.
Francis Michael Foster     Alias Toad/Gobbo   Mark's younger brother
Jack Goodman                  Frankie's bosom pal
James Bowes-Chesterton  Frankie's pal Bozo
Patrick Montgomery         Frankie's pal Moggo
Anthony Pugsley               Shelley's ardent boyfriend [Puggo/Pugsy]
Gregory Parks                   Bozo's friend [Harpo]
Liam Moore                      A Lodge Boy, Porter-to-be
Sean O'Malley                   Servery Lad and Lodge Boy
Curt Stein                          Servery Lad and cute with it
Logan Henderson              An engineering student with a problem


                                         Christmas 2003
               Monday 22nd December (Cont.)

     Quarter-past two!  The lads must be well into exploring the first
cellar with the statues and some of the monastic artefacts.  I wondered how
interested in those they'd be or would they be raring to get to the central
room with the wall-paintings?  No doubt I would hear plenty over tea.  But,
I was wasting my valuable time.  The two boys said they would finish
clearing and washing up so I went to my study and immersed myself in test
papers.  It was only when I needed an urgent pee that I looked at my watch
and found an hour and a half had passed.  Good!  I'd tackled a fugue, a
chorale prelude and two questions on history of the organ and it's music.
Dad would have his Christmas Day snooze interrupted by marking the musical
bits and I wasn't unhappy about my essay answers.  I did have to check that
Buxtehude was pre-Bach and found they overlapped more than I had thought
and not only had Bach walked from Arnstadt to Lubeck but also Handel had
visited him there as well.  I hoped I might be able to work those snippets
in somewhere if a similar question was asked.

     I carried on and tried a couple of writing for string quartet
questions but wasn't too keen, but I persevered.  I then looked at the test
pieces where I would have to play at sight, after little more than a
cursory glance, passages of four part harmony with the three top parts in
soprano, alto and tenor clefs.  I tried to concentrate on thinking through
and decided to look at the harmonization and that did help.  I'd really
have to practise those tests and the transposition tests much more.

     By this time it was getting on for five o'clock and I went out to the
now tidied main room and switched the lights on.  The crew hadn't arrived
back so I looked out my 'Tallis to Wesley' set of Handel's six fugues and
started to play through them on the harpsichord.  I was negotiating the
rather wide jumps in the fifth fugue when I was aware of the quiet entry of
the lads and a hushed taking-off of anoraks and suchlike.  I played on, as
usual enjoying the somewhat quirky leaps and the way that great composer
brought the recurring theme again and again in counterpoint with earlier
entries.  I had got just to the bottom of the second page where I could
make a turn by playing the e minor chord and the next couple of chords of
the next bar over the page with my right hand when a hand appeared and
turned the page for me at exactly the right moment.  I realised it was
young Gregory.  I nodded my thanks and completed the piece emphasizing
those strange cadential chords with, I thought, elegant arpeggios and a
final trill.

     There was a round of applause.  I turned and bowed, also elegantly,
from my seated position.  "Shopping done?" I asked.  Stupid question.
Hands pointed to an array of various bags and packages lined up against the
wall.  "And how were the cellars?"  Another stupid question.  There was a
cacophony of answers until they all burst into hoots of laughter, all
turning and pointing at Frankie, who, quite unabashed, did a bow which
would not have disgraced an eighteenth century gentleman.

     "Trust him to have pride of place!" Moggo said.  "No wonder they made
him look young though.  He's got so little to show it must have been
painted from life!"

     As the youth in the painting had a more than reasonable sized set of
equipment, admittedly outdone by the gent fingering him, Moggo was gently
pulling Gobbo's pis..., no I mean leg.

     "Not from life, but an adequate representation," said Frankie archly.
He looked at me.  "At least they all thought you and Tris were very..."
For once Toad was lost for words as the whole lot guffawed.

     "I hope you didn't embarrass Christopher or Wayne."

     "It was Chris who took us round," said the usually almost silent Jack.
"He explained everything and told us who everybody was in the paintings.
He said that coin's in the College safe at the moment."

     I'd forgotten that.  The Book of Hours had gone back to the Museum for
safe-keeping immediately after the service but the coin had been brought
out later for inspection by guests on Saturday.  I had an idea, perhaps?...

     "Does it really belong to you?" asked Bozo.  "Chris said it's very
valuable."

     I nodded.  "The book and the coin are mine because of the instructions
about whoever solved the code.  I've said they really belong to the
College, or the monasteries, or even the country and they'll end up in a
museum to be seen by everyone.  I'll ask if you can see the real coin
tomorrow."

     There was a murmur.  Then Harpo spoke up.  "Frankie said that
harpsichord was given to you.  It's lovely and that piece you played was
gorgeous."

     I explained a bit more about Ulvescott and more or less promised to
arrange a visit for them all.  Oh dear, perhaps I would be asking too much,
but I knew they would be fascinated by the place and there was always all
the craft shops and other outlets.  It was just whether I would be playing
on my connections with the place and the family.  No, I didn't think so and
Frankie backed me up on that thought.

     "I think we could ask if we could go.  Doctor Thomson said the place
always welcomed young people and I would like to show my friends what a
lovely place it is and I'm sure we wouldn't be a nuisance.  We could go for
a day perhaps."

     "I'll ask Safar," I said.

     That set off more discussion and I left Frankie to do the explanations
as I closed the lid of the harpsichord.  Young Gregory stood by me and
helped.

     "Thank you for playing that Handel piece," he said as we put the lid
carefully down.

     "You knew it was Handel?" I asked.

     "I did as soon as I came in, but then I saw the name as well."

     "You play the French Horn, don't you?"

     He nodded.  "And the piano.  I got Grade Eight at Easter and I want to
do Music at A Level."

     "Any plans after that?"

     "I want to go to the Royal College if possible.  My horn teacher's a
professor there."

     "My Mum and Dad were there and Mum has students from there for
coaching."

     "Frankie says you've both got diplomas already..."

     My turn to nod.  "And we're both trying for organ ones in the New
Year."

     "Yeah, Frankie said so.  He's good isn't he.  Bozo took me to yours a
couple of weeks ago and he was practising the piano."

     "And you and Bozo?"

     A shy smile.  "I think so."

     "Know so?"

     No hesitation.  The smile broadened.  "I'm certain."

     Our conversation was broken up as Sean and Liam appeared with the
hamper and disappeared into the kitchen with everyone watching expectantly.

     "It's OK," I said, "There's tea and bits and pieces in a few minutes
and then you can sort yourselves out and we dine at seven.  Be ready at
quarter to, mustn't be late."

     "Late for food?" queried Pugsy poking Moggo in the back, "Never been
known, eh?"

     "And what afterwards?" asked Jack, I thought a bit hesitantly.

     "Straight to the Club," I said.  "At least, nearly all straights to
the Club, but I'm not sure," looking directly at Pugsy.  He grinned and
gave me a slight two-fingered salute from behind the others.

     After tea and cakes and buns they left to get ready.  It was time Tris
arrived.  I needed him as being surrounded by all these lusty lads I was
feeling decidedly horny.  But first Sean had to tell me that he'd persuaded
Liam to come to the Club and that Frankie had said....  I held up a hand.
"Don't tell me.  You'll be OK Liam.  Don't worry."

     He grinned.  "Never been but if there's a crowd shouldn't be too bad."

     "We'll be there latest by nine thirty so tell whoever's on the door
it's Mark's party."

     "Oh good, we'll be finished serving and clearing up in Hall," said
Sean.  He turned to Liam.  "Just give you time to put your glad rags on!"

     Oh, I just wondered.  I'd never seen Liam other than in his neat suit
or his full Porter's garb and the pair were going off bearing parcels from
Frankie with one for Curt.

     Off they went and I followed them and went to the Bursar's office.
Mrs Chalfont-Meade was there sorting through a stack of papers.  She was
always pleased to see me I thought and I waited until she'd riffled through
the pile.

     "Hello, Mr Foster," she said, always so correct.  I had suggested she
called me Mark when I was constantly in her office sorting out 'cellar
matters' as she always referred to them.  "Not gone home yet?"  As she'd
been present when I'd discussed the proposed invasion of the alien horde
with Charles I was convinced that 'airhead' was a suitable description of
her mental powers.  No, I was being unkind.  She did have a kindly nature.
She'd plied me with coffee and Rich Tea biscuits on several occasions when
I'd been to consult the Bursar or Charles.

     "Wednesday, after the Nine Lessons and Carols at King's," I said.

     "Oh, you are lucky, I didn't manage to get tickets this year.  The
Brigadier forgot."

     Wow.  First time I had heard her speak evil of the Bursar.

      "He must have many things on his mind these days with all the
expansion of the College."  I almost sniggered as I said the toadying
words.  Many things?  Golf with Mr Chalfont-Meade.  The field at the St
Leger.  Golf with Mr Chalfont-Meade.  What to do between sherries.  Ah,
golf with Mr Chalfont-Meade.  The list was endless.  No wonder Charles had
his eye on the main chance.

     "Yes, poor man," she said, "He's poorly today.  But he said he'll be
in tomorrow."

     Poorly?  I knew someone, Uncle Francesco probably, had been very
liberal with bottles of champagne to those in College who were not
officially invited to the wedding.  No doubt the Brigadier had quaffed his
ration over the weekend.

     "What can I do for you?" she asked, a rather vacant look on her face
as she began to thumb though the heap again.  "Oh, dear," she went on
before I could answer, "It's so complicated.  I have to keep the payments
made to attendants for the Exhibition separate from the payments made for
sundry items used in the Exhibition for refreshments for the attendants.
Chef was most rude on Friday as he said he had to balance his books."

     I thought I'd better tell her what I wanted before being drawn into
any fiscal arguments which might involve being chased by Cheffie with the
cleaver and the Bursar with a golf club.

     "Would it be possible to show my brother and his friends the coin
tomorrow morning?" I asked interrupting her soliloquy.  "Would half past
nine be convenient?"

     She was immediately interested.  "That lovely coin," she breathed,
"Oh, so rare and so beautiful.  You could have it made into a wonderful
pendant for your wife when you marry."

     Ouch!  How to disabuse the dear soul of two things.  The ruination of
a precious object only mine by default, never.  And..., I wasn't likely to
have a lovely wife, ever.  A lovely companion, for ever, yes, I hoped.
Best not to say anything.  Just wait.

     Luckily the moment passed.  "Let me put it in the Brigadier's diary.
He should be here but if not would you ask the Chaplain to come over as I
don't know the combination of the safe."

     Thank God for that.  I wondered if she could even remember the PIN for
her credit card.  I thanked her, having watched her turn to the correct
page in the desk diary and make an entry, and went back to my set.  I sat
down feeling even more horny than usual thinking about the outing to the
Club and.... ....Where was Tris? ...Oh God I'd got two more terms without
him around all the time and then I'd have to make decisions.  Could I get a
job?  Teaching maths in a local school?  I'd have to get a teaching
certificate I supposed.  Oh God, Toby and Louie were in London doing
theirs.  Would Tris and I have to swap places?  Me in London and Tris here
working in Paul and Jacob's office...  Another year?  And what if I didn't
pass the Fellowship exam?...  And what if I made a hash of my degree
exams?...  The old worryguts Mark was surfacing...

     "Oh, am I glad to see you!" I jumped up and rushed to the opening door
as Tris came in, briefcase in hand, looking so handsome and smart in his
dark overcoat.

     "Down, Fido!" he said as he put the briefcase on the nearest chair and
I hampered him as he tried to disentangle his arms from the sleeves of his
coat.  He must have guessed I was in some sort of tizz.  He wasn't going to
help.  He looked over to the table.  He sighed.  "I don't know.  I come
home from a long, hard day in the office and there's no gin and tonic
waiting for me.  What have you been doing all day.  Just sitting around
scratching your arse, I suppose?"  He couldn't keep it up.  He looked at me
and laughed.  "You stupid boy, what's the matter now?"

     He opened his arms and I hugged him.  "Just me," I said.  I breathed a
bit more slowly.  "Sorry, just usual worries surfacing again."  I let go of
him.  "True, let's have a drink and I'll be sensible."

     "I'll get them.  You sit down and relax and then you can tell me about
how those ruffians got on this afternoon, and that boy!  Woah!  Pulses
raced a bit, eh?"

     I snickered, feeling a lot better.  "Hard-on up to my eyebrows!"

     He chuckled.  "Same here!  Beauty and beauty, 'cause Bozo's a winner
as well.."

     "...As you well know."

     He laughed..  "Lucky me, but Bozo's luckier if he and Harpo become an
item.  What do you think?"

     "We'll know tomorrow morning...."  We both laughed and he reached out
and we kissed gently then with ardour.  We broke the liplock and looked and
smiled at each other.  There was no doubt.  We were an item.

     "Gin?" asked Tris.

     "Plenty of ice," I said and sat.

     Over that comforting drink we discussed our days.  Tris said he'd been
dealing with a contract to open negotiations with various outlets for the
new Leopardi brand.  Jacob had said that as soon as he joined the firm the
pair of them would be working almost full-time on Uncle Francesco's and
Aldo's dealings over here.  In fact, there was probably scope for an office
to be set up, but they would need help with the Italian as the translation
of documents had to be exact.  He said it was so useful being in the office
as Jacob explained all the details so well he was certain it would help
when he sat his exams.  I then had to tell him how I'd spent my day with
counselling Logan and saying that both Sean and Liam would be coming to the
Club and he shouldn't be surprised what might be worn, especially by Curt
who himself was going to be surprised anyway by Logan's profession of love.
Tris just shook his head and smiled until I said he could wait and ask the
lads what they thought of the cellars, but I did hold my hands out about
seven inches apart to indicate at least he had been commented upon.  Oh,
and I'd seen Mrs C-M to arrange for them to see the real coin.  I then went
over my worries about the future.  He leaned over and held me tight.

     "You just go on and do the very best you can.  We both know what Piers
has said...  ...and done.  You're Mark and you are marked.  That's certain.
It might sound strange to have someone present like that but I know he's
keeping a watchful eye on us.  You'll succeed whatever you do.  I feel I
will as well and we know that scamp of a brother of yours will, whatever."

     We kissed deeply and I felt so peaceful.  Odd.  The closing triplets
of 'Jesu Joy' flooded my brain.  We parted.  Tris hummed a note.  It was
the final G, absolutely in tune.  We smiled at each other, safe in other's
company, safe in the knowledge....

     We finished our drinks and then had to decide what to wear.  For me, a
quiet ensemble of Unc's finest.  Aldo had given me the most wonderful silk
shirt on Saturday.  That and a new pair of dark trousers would match
perfectly.  Tris had a similar shirt and I thought we looked a real
coordinated pair when we'd washed and dressed.  Then a few drops of his
father's latest gift from some female client, a torrid male fragrance by
Jean Paul Gaultier guaranteed...  Guaranteed to make two already sexy and
sexed-up horny creatures into veritable satyrs.  Two thoughts struck.  One.
Did Auntie Dil know about the constant replenishment of Tris's array of
wonder products by that means?  Two was voiced, satyrs in mind: "Wonder if
Batman will be there tonight?"

     "I told him about the invasion on Saturday when he was putting the
Book away and he said he wouldn't miss it for worlds." He smiled.  "Davy'll
probably be there as well if there isn't the usual crisis at the hospital."

     "Ow, the lads will be in for a treat."  I then told Tris about Sean's
alarm at the prospect of seeing his boxing mates.

     "Lee's there most nights I think," said Tris.  "They come in after
being at the gym.  It's just down the road from the Club.  It's a wonder
Sean didn't know."

     "I think young Sean has had a rather sheltered life," I said "Jason
told me his Dad disappeared when he was quite young and his Mum only got
married to Liam's father fairly recently after his mother died so Liam
calls her Mum as well now.  Anyway, I think Mum must have cosseted her
loving son and I think from what Curt said today there's an older sister,
too."

     Tris laughed.  "You really pick up the gossip, don't you."

     "It may be gossipy but I think those lads are all fond of each other.
Certainly Jason keeps an eye on Liam and Sean and I'm sure Curt enters the
equation somewhere as well.  We'll just have to see what happens tonight."

     "We'd better go and see what's happening over the road."

     We crossed the passageway and tapped on Boz's door.  Frankie opened it
with a resigned look on his face.

     "I now know what Dad must feel like when Mum takes hours to get ready.
Bloody Hell, I knew exactly what I was going to wear."  He did, too.  He
looked ultra trendy, just like one of Unc's models.

     We followed him through into the main room.  Five boys were in various
states and stages of undress ranging from Pugsy who was completely in the
nude to Harpo who almost matched us three in studied elegance.  Frankie had
passed over what must have been a complete wardrobe of Unc's designs and
they certainly suited the willowy lad.  There was a quiet murmur from the
others; Bozo almost dressed, doing up buttons on a muted purplish shirt;
Jack without trousers holding up one red sock and one green with Moggo
grunting at him about colour- blindness and hauling up his own trousers at
the same time; a quiet 'bugger, bugger, bugger' coming from Pugsy.

     Pugsy turned as we entered.  Gosh, he certainly had a muscly body with
a marked six- pack and a massive pubic bush with a small patch of dark hair
between his pecs.  Yes, a short length drooped from the undergrowth.  Short
but well-formed with a hefty dark foreskin.

     "Sorry I'm not ready but I was last in the shower and I can't find my
underpants."

     A grinning Frankie lobbed over a small parcel.  "I hid them while you
were in there so try these."  He looked at the other lads who had stopped
whatever they were doing as Pugsy ripped open the package and held up a
pair of the red silk boxers.

     "Oh my God," he said on a rising note and swiftly bent over,
displaying a very hairy backside, and pulled them on.  He did a twirl, a
real balletic twirl worthy of a Nuryev, or perhaps, a Billy Elliot.

     Frankie hurriedly scrabbled in a bag and tossed over three more
packets to Moggo, Bozo and Jack.  "You were all going to get them tomorrow
but you might as well have them tonight."  He turned to Harpo with the
fifth gift-wrapped parcel.  "Same for you, but I guess this will suit you
better."  One of the silk thongs dangled from the fingers of his left hand.

     An open-mouthed boy took the proffered offerings.  Slowly he dropped
his trousers and pulled down the dark cotton boxers he was wearing.  He had
to remove his shoes as well before he was completely divested.  As he stood
to put the now discarded underpants on the chair next to him a second set
of well-formed genitalia was revealed for quick inspection.  I caught a
glimpse of a darkish patch of hair from which hung a slim, pink,
foreskinned cock over a pair of balls the size of small plums.  Balls of
that more than adequate size on a seventeen-year-old must produce a copious
amount of boy-cream.  They almost matched my Tris's as they hung loosely
and then were enveloped in that sensuous looking fabric.  I was
concentrating so hard on that sight I missed the others hastily changing
but the murmurs of appreciation were general.

     "Oh, thanks!" Harpo said as he pulled up his shirt and showed off the
outline of his cock and balls now so snugly encased.  "Wow!  Feels good."
Hastily he re-dressed.

     I nearly came in my own silk thong which I had abstracted before Toad
had commandeered the majority of the contents in the bag.  Wow, I also felt
good and I'm sure Tris did who was similarly attired.  We'd had a laugh
about Curt's reputed size and Tris had remarked that as the material was so
slinky and slightly stretchy we shouldn't worry about any eggs falling out
of the basket, ours or his!

     "Right, are you lot ready now?" came the commanding tones.  Frankie
was in charge.  He surveyed his 'crew' and did not find them wanting.
Yowks!  If the paparazzi could have been warned then Unc's reputation would
have risen to the Heavens.  Gelled quiffs and points were much in evidence,
well-shaven cheeks with no signs of blood from scraped pustules, loose ties
or none at all setting off up-to-date Leopardi and Matteoli tops or shirts,
well-cut trousers emphasising slim legs or rugby-players' thighs and, in at
least two cases, quite pronounced frontal bulges, feet were encased in a
variety of footwear from elegant loafers to more sturdy brogues.  All in
all quite a picture.

     Frankie wasn't finished.  There was to be a picture.  He'd set up a
tripod with a digital camera on top.  Eight young gentlemen were arranged
and the self-timer set.  A flash and we were immortalised.  Fleeces,
anoraks or plain old coats were donned and we were ready to go.

     As we went out I button-holed Bozo.  "You'll be OK coming back with
Gregory?" He smiled and fished in his trouser pocket and then held up the
key to the door of the set he and Harpo would be occupying that night.

     "Yeah," he said, "We shall miss going to that Club but I hope there'll
be another time."

     I laughed.  "Frankie'll organise that I'm sure but you've got other
things to keep you occupied tonight" His smile was enormous as we parted
and he went to walk side-by-side with the boy whose own smile matched his.

     Frankie led the way to the restaurant.  Tris and I kept to the back
and noted how all of them interacted, quietly and, one could say, with
dignity.  I felt a certain proudness for my young brother and I was not to
be disappointed.  Admittedly, they just about ate through the menu - no I'm
exaggerating, but Pugsy and Moggo did have a large bowl of Moules
Marinieres as well as a second starter before devouring what looked like
half a chicken and a pile of frites each for their main course.  Tris and I
had a glass of wine but the 'tribe', as I kept referring to them as in my
mind, kept to Coke or one glass of lager in the case of Moggo and Frankie.
Conversation was subdued.  Eating was more important after a hard day of
viewing erotic art and Christian iconography and shopping!  Service was a
bit slow because the place was packed but, at last, the final creme brulee
or whatever was savoured and thirsts were slaked and my credit card went
through the machine without a hitch and we were off led by Tris and
Frankie.  Bozo and Harpo had already waved cheerio and walked off back to
the College.  There were no catcalls, no comments just waves in reply.  I
waited for Pugsy, last again.

     "Had to drain the snake," he said, as he emerged into Bridge Street
and joined me.  "Some old fucker in there had a peer so I just shook the
end at him."  He chuckled.  "Don't know if it's just me but it happens all
the time."

     No wonder.  Pugsy was buffed-up, muscly, or whatever, and might be
expected to possess other well-developed assets.  But then, even I had
experienced a good number of sideways glances when 'draining the snake' so
perhaps it was a common happening.  I had to admit to myself I'd had
surreptitious glances more than once, especially when some exhibitionist
waggled a length to get the last drop off.

     "Just take it as a compliment," I said, "I think we've all had it and
done it."

     He snickered.  "Too true.  Curiosity didn't only kill one cat.  Had to
break up a rumble in the bogs recently because one of the Fifth Year
accused some small kid of ogling his dick and bashed him.  Next thing the
older lad was on the floor with the little lad's mates putting the boot in.
Who'd be a Prefect?  One of the little bastards caught me just where it
hurts most but did a dance clutching himself for that!"

     As we wandered along we did change the subject.  He told me a bit
about himself.  He was the product of a second marriage with an older
brother in his thirties from the first marriage and two younger sisters
from this one.  His father had worked in the City in reinsurance and then
had set up his own business having ditched his first wife and married his
much younger secretary.  I don't think Pugsy was too enamoured with his
father who made a lot of money but spent it lavishly, seemingly mostly away
from the family.  I got the feeling he envied Shelley's settled existence
with a very stable home life - even if the little madam spent her weekends
on her back in his company - but then, I had her brother on his back
whenever!

     He confessed he wasn't too confident but had made a lot of progress
when his rugby- playing skills had been recognised.  "Gotta hand it to
Frankie, too, the mouth may be continually active but he's proving the best
mate I could ever have."  He looked almost shyly up at me, I was about
three inches taller, "Have to say it, he thinks the world of you and Tris.
I wish I could have had a brother more my age.  Curtis is OK, he's married
and got a couple of kids of his own, but he's never been part of my life.
I look after Mum and the girls 'cause Dad's so often away."  He paused.
"Shagging even more paid-for cunt!  And he's fucking sixty-two!"  He was
silent for a while.  "Sorry, Mark, I shouldn't have said that... ...but,
God Almighty, I feel better for it."

     "It's off your chest now.  I don't mind listening.  If you need to
chat and I'm home just come along.  I'll give you my mobile number, too."

     He breathed what sounded like a sigh of relief.  "Thanks.  I get so
uptight sometimes I feel like thumping some poor bastard in the other team.
At least playing rugby gives me a chance to let off steam.  I think
Frankie's guessed I'm a wimp at heart, though..."  He laughed.  "You know
what I mean?  But he's never taken advantage and he's always supported me
one hundred per cent at school."

     "Yes, he told me about Batty and the fixture list.  Between you and
me, I don't think he's got you down as a wimp but as one of his heroes!"

     "I'm no hero, just a faithful plodder.  Mum says I'm just like my
Uncle Mack.  He's an engineer and he's great so I've decided to study that.
Dad's not pleased.  Doesn't think it's good enough.  Cambridge is OK, but,
engineering?"  The last was said with a rising cadence of loaded skepticism
and more than a hint of sarcasm.  An imitation of someone who was very
adept at belittlement.

     I really felt for the lad.  Oh, how could any parent be so callous.  I
thought to myself, Antony, if you were gay I'd take you into my arms and
hold you tight and tell you not to let some self- indulgent,
self-opinionated, self-obsessed old fart put you down.  What could I say,
or do?  I didn't want to cause a major incident on a Cambridge street by
giving the downcast lad the loving hug he needed.  My thoughts were racing.
He would be in my arms later.  He would have to join in the dancing.  But
now?

     "But it's what you want to do."  It sounded very trite but our
attention was drawn to two scruffy-looking types in hoodies, trainers and
flapping, low-slung jeans with tapes and chains festooning their lower
regions.  They were gesturing at our group who had just reached the steps
leading down to the door of the Club.

     "Fucking poofs!" called out one - loud enough for us to hear but not
to carry across the road.

     "Fucking arse-bandits!" carolled the second making exaggerated wanking
movements with his hands and arms in, no doubt, well-rehearsed fashion.

     Pugsy strode up and stood behind them.  "They happen to be my
friends," he said firmly in his quite deep voice.

     Oh Pugsy, keep out of it!  The tales of young men being stabbed, or
'shanked' in the argot, were always in the papers.  These two looked as if
they might be carrying.  Their coarse- sounding voices were provocative and
carried menace.

     They turned and looked at Pugsy.  He was taller than both and one's
hooded top slipped back to reveal a shaven-headed kid of about sixteen with
enough metal-work in ears and brows to nail a fence.  "Sorry mate, no
offence," he just about stammered out.

     He got no further as we were joined by three others.  I turned.  Thank
God, not mates of these two but Lee and two of the other boxers, including
the sixteen-stone heavyweight.  I got the distinct impression that two
street urchins were about to shit themselves and they would need their
baggy-arsed pants to hold the load.

     "You!  Fuckwit!  Come here!"  A large gnarled hand reached out and
grabbed the shaven-headed one's pointy nose.  The kid had to 'come here'.
The other one just stared, petrified, all the bravado gone.  He didn't even
have the wit to turn and run.  "If I see you anywhere near here again your
fucking snout'll be so far up your arse the shit'll be coming out of your
lugs.  I know you anyway...," He was looking at the other one who I guess
was wishing there was a hole in the ground to take refuge in.  "....Your
Dad drinks in the same pub as mine.  A quiet word and there wouldn't be any
child protection stopping him leathering your arse!"  He let go of the now
very red nose of a very red-faced adolescent wouldbe tearaway.  "Fuck off
the pair of you!..."  No more needed to be said.  Even though handicapped
by flapping clothing the pair would have won the hundred metres at the next
Olympics, helped in this case by the application to each fleeing backside
of an accurately planted Doc Martens boot.

     "Didn't see or hear anything, eh?" Lee said as he dusted his hands
together.  "See you over there."

     The trio marched off across the road.  I looked at Pugsy.  Pugsy
looked at me.  I shrugged.  Pugsy shrugged and we crossed the road, too.

     Our lot had disappeared inside by this time.  The trio had reached the
doorway and were having a quiet word with Craig the usual doorman and went
in as he opened the door.  He grinned as we came up to him.  "Good evening,
gentlemen, welcome as usual.  Nice quiet evening, just as we like it!"
From his position he must have seen the altercation and no doubt Lee had
just confirmed any suspicions he may have had.

     "Good evening.  A perfect starlit evening," I said, "One Member plus
guest."

     He grinned and opened the door.  Shawn was standing just inside.  He
wasn't grinning.

     "Good, you've arrived at last!" he said to me, Pugsy stood still too.
Oh God, what was up.  Surely Frankie hadn't stripped off and doing a nude
imitation of a can-can already?  "I've got a quartet of creatures in my
office with two of them weeping and clutching each other and saying it's
your fault!"  Here he did grin.  "Get in there and sort them out or I'll
have to put the hosepipe on them!"

     His office was just by the entrance.  He flung the door open with
quite a dramatic gesture.  I went in closely followed by Pugsy.  There were
Sean and Liam, dressed to the nines looking quite ravishing in their own
way, gazing bewildered at Curt and Logan who were entwined in each others
arms, tears coursing down their cheeks as they bestowed slobbery kisses on
faces, necks, ears, chins, whatever came into range as they whispered and
cried at each other.  Logan was dressed, as usual when working behind the
bar, in his kilt and Jacobean laced-up shirt.  However the shirt was
tear-stained and his sporran was all awry and pushed round almost to his
back.  Curt was in normal street clothes.  He wasn't dressed in his usual
minimal garb which would have been those shorts I had given him with,
perhaps, a tight white tee-shirt.  I had to do something.  The Club was
missing two of its essential workers.

     "Stop!" I yelled.  Amazingly it had an immediate effect.  Perhaps not
the one I desired.  They looked round..  Disentwining, if there was such a
word, they were then like two limpets with arms, not suckers, around my
neck and chest.  I was slobbered over.  Undying thanks were expressed.  I
had engineered the greatest love expression since Dante and Beatrice, or
Dante and Rossetti, or Dante and the King of Siam.  No it couldn't be any
of those, it was more like Dante's Inferno.  The kisses were hot and
heartfelt, though.  Liam, Sean, Pugsy and the usually imperturbable Shawn,
were all heaving with laughter.  A match had been made in the Club if not
in Heaven!  With what was bulging out the usually sporran-covered front of
the kilt and the pouchy tent in Curt's tight jeans if I had been female and
fertile and they weren't gay I would have been in the other club
straightaway.  Gay?  Logan had at last made his mind up!  I think one or
other, or both, that night would be explored by what seemed to be
equally-sized phalli.

     "Stop!" I yelled again.  This time it did have the desired effect.
They stood side by side, just their fingers entwined, Logan almost a head
taller than Curt, smiling as if he'd already had the cat's, or Curt's,
cream.

     "Oh, jings!" he breathed out, "He's said 'Yes'."

     "You mean you have, you silly great dope!" said Curt.

     I thought the sex-battle was going to recommence.  I was
Acting-Regimental-Sergeant- Major. "Get cleaned up and dressed.
Everybody's in there waiting for their drinks and we'll be in there in two
minutes and I'm thirsty!"

     That did it.  Two creatures almost scurried off towards the staff
room.

     "Bloody Hell!"  Shawn said quietly to no-one in particular, "I thought
we were going to have a real live show like I saw last..."

     He must have realised revelations might be used against him.  He
pointed at the four of us in a sweeping gesture.  "You lot, get in there
and the first drink's on the house." He laughed.  "I wouldn't have missed
that for worlds.  That pair have been waltzing round each other for weeks
like a pair of lovesick little maids... ...My, oh my, young love passes you
by much too soon."  He looked at Pugsy.  "Just visiting?"  He winked.
"Pity you're treading the straight road."  Pugsy's mouth opened ready to
ask....  "It's OK," said Shawn, "My gaydar's almost infallible!"

     Felix, the general dogsbody and hat-check boy in the cubby-hole next
door, took our coats.  "Lot'th in," he lisped, "Nice lot of boyth already.
Hallo Liam dear, didn't expect to thee you.  I'll give you a danth later."

     Poor Liam, I hoped his undies were waterproof as he looked ready to
wet himself, if not just to run home.  I pushed him past Flirty Felix as he
was know colloquially and rather fondly.  He was quite harmless and spent
most of his time quaffing cranberry juice and resetting the waves in his
rather bouffant hairstyle.  He had a boyfriend.  A rather formidable six
footer whom I now realised was probably another habitue of the gym if not a
boxer.  I had questioned the cranberry juice once, to be enlightened by
Davy. "Keeps bugs in the waterworks at bay."

     Tailed by Sean and Pugsy I and Liam entered the brightly lit part of
the Club.  The DJ was having a ball with the early numbers.  The throbbing
rhythms would be just the thing to get the lads going later.  I shepherded
my trio to the quieter, dimmer part where we usually congregated and sat.
I saw Tris and Frankie standing with the others in the group who seemed
transfixed by the sight in front of them.  A trio of my favourite
leathermen.  The trio of Satyrs themselves.  Brad, Dude and Batman!.  Oh,
my God!  Dude?  Gone to London.  Gone up the smoke.  Dude, my hero!  Dude,
Zack's hero!

     It was Liam's turn to almost wet his knickers again.  After effusive
welcomes for all and sundry Brad turned to him.

     "Made the step at last, young Liam?  Shall I deliver a set of harness
to Old Albert tomorrow for you?  Nice upright figure, you'd set it off a
treat.  You could have Dude's vacant seat next to me!"

     Frankie was there first.  "He could borrow my leather jockstrap as
well."  Liam's jaw just about dropped.  He hadn't been privy to Friday
night's shenanigans.  "Mr Tomkins could put the boot in and he wouldn't
feel a thing!"

     I put my arm round Liam who went all tense.  "They're only teasing.
Relax.  Here comes Raphael for first orders."

     That defused the situation.  I ordered my usual G and T plus one for
Liam.  On the house of course!  Pugsy and Sean went for Cokes and I noted
an assortment including a few brightly coloured mixtures appeared for the
rest.  Being generous I'd ordered a wee dram each of the amber fluid for
Brad and Dude with the usual non-alky lager for Batman.  I gave a thumbs-up
to the boxing trio and three shandies were delivered to them.  Lee
interlinked his fingers and showed off the most impressive set of biceps on
each arm and pecs that stood out like slabs of beef on his chest in a
display of thanks.

     The lads were well away, not from drink, but savouring the ambience of
the place.  Frankie was busy pointing out, discreetly, various usual
inhabitants.  I saw Godders at his usual place at the bar and viewing our
contingent with unalloyed pleasure.  Spotting me watching him he put two
fingers to his lips with open fingers in acknowledgement of the pulchritude
of the group of young males.  He hadn't seen anything yet.  A second G and
T followed shortly, brought over by a beaming Raph, courtesy of a grateful
Godders.  Raph had a moment.  "Can't say how happy I am.  Your Mum's
brill."  Yes, Frankie must have primed Mum to make the offer to the very
dashing young giant in a tuxedo roped in to help at the wedding reception
on Saturday.

     The next flurry of excitement was the appearance of the happy pair now
spruced up and ready to serve customers.  At least Logan was fully dressed,
his shirt somehow dried and pressed to immaculate tidiness, his kilt just
right and his sporran centrally placed.  I suppose Curt was fully dressed -
for the occasion.  Unc's shorts, white ankle socks and neat black slip-on
shoes.  Whistles, but certainly no catcalls, accompanied his entrance and
his immediate delivery to me of a third gin and tonic.  I placed it
carefully on the low table in front of me, stood up and enveloped his hot
young body in a mighty hug and gave him the sloppiest but heartiest kiss on
his rosy lips as I could.  It was Spring again when the birds do sing and
mighty oaks put forth their foliage.  Two young saplings clashed.  "Wow,"
came a breathless whisper as our lips unlocked, "Nearly shot another load
then!"  Oh.  So the intervening minutes hadn't just been wasted with
tidying up.  "Must get back but I want a dance later!" He was gone, but on
looking round Godders was giving me another hand signal.

     I thought I'd better work off some of the adrenaline, or gin, and
grabbed an unsuspecting Pugsy and dragged him round to the dance-floor.
Not dragged, he came most willingly and exhibited a much more expert
knowledge of the rhythms and accompanying gyrations than I'd ever
assimilated in my excursions into Garage, House, Reggae, or whatever.  Five
minutes later we had shed our shirts and were joined by equally shirtless
other couples of Tris and Dude, Batman and the newly-arrived Davy, Moggo
and Sean and, wonder of wonders, a most accomplished pair of Frankie and
Liam.  Wow, that usually straight shouldered young man bent and writhed and
twisted and turned in perfect sync with my extrovert of a brother.  In
fact, two or three gins later the performance was repeated with Felix who I
knew was a most accomplished dancer himself.  Jack was in the fray as well,
taken over by a succession of well-toned youngsters who seemed delighted to
have a new, different, possibly seducible partner.  Jack, I think, broke a
few hearts that night.  No seductions for him just the patent joy of
letting ones hair down in convivial company.  I surrendered Pugsy to the
attentions of others and during the next two and a half hours worked my way
through a good half dozen other partners including a still priapically
rampant Curt who demanded at least three excursions through hotter and
hotter numbers.  At least I was getting hotter and hotter.  Lucky Curt,
minimal clothing as well.  Little bastard at one point told a beaming Brad
that I'd given him not only the shorts but also the thong he was wearing
and had to be restrained from displaying the well-filled pouch of said
garment to a Chief Detective Inspector!  Brad did get a glimpse of the
elasticated top before slapping his hand.  "Spoilsport!" Curt said, "But I
love you!"

     I found out that Dude had a couple of days leave and was staying with
Brad.  He'd be free on Christmas Day after having to be on duty on
Christmas Eve.  A quick call to an intrigued Mum, who wanted to know about
the background noise, and we had another stray for Christmas dinner.  Oh
well, I was filling my day with good deeds like the good Scout I'd never
been.  Pity we weren't into dressing up or I could seduce Tris later out of
his Patrol Leader's uniform!  I watched my lovely Tris as he looped and
loped, swooped and then swopped partners and meditated on how lucky I was
and hoped that Curt and Logan, and Bozo and Harpo, would find the same
happiness.  Midnight came and before we all turned into pumpkins Tris got
Chris the DJ to put on a real smoochy number.  I started that with Pugsy,
moved on to Moggo, found Sean whose pecs were just as defined but lovelier
than Lee's and whose left nipple hardened under a slight wayward touch,
relieved Jack of a more than attentive hot Muscle Mary whose seemingly sole
intent was to feel my cock pressed against his decidedly smaller one, I
soon palmed him off (almost the right term as a wandering hand had also
strayed dangerously near the waistband at the back of my trousers) and got
the penultimate one with a hot, but not bothered, Logan who had crept onto
the floor and whose Jacobean shirt was drenched with sweat and heady
pheromones.  We danced smiling, eyes locked until my Tris tapped me on the
shoulder and I was his for the last measures.  After the long languorous
ending chord Frankie rounded everyone up and shirts and tops were donned
again.  No one missing although Jack was still being chatted up by a real
hunk.  Not saying that Jack wasn't a real hunk.  I had been quite surprised
at the toned torsos of the whole tribe, none of whom would be worthy of
being booted out of bed!

     Frankie the diplomat thanked Shawn, shook hands with Brad, was hugged
by Dude and Batman, kissed on the cheek by Davy, saluted Godders who was
swaying gently, got thumbs-up from the trio who were also getting ready to
leave and was waved at by anyone else in view.  He sidled up to me.  "Quite
a few found out tonight it wasn't a piece of old gristle hidden away on
Friday!  I saw you just about snogging with that big bloke as well but he's
not so big as us though, eh!"  A bit of tickle torture would be coming his
way.

     There was animated but subdued conversation as we walked back to
College.  We said goodnight to Liam and Sean who seemed just about blown
away by the experience.  No speculations were made about our missing pair.
My evening was made by the kiss, not just a peck on the lips, by a more
than grateful Pugsy for the heart-to-heart talk we'd had.

     Both Tris and I were too hyped up to go to bed.  Two sexy and sexed-up
creatures sat side by side on the sofa in red silk thongs, heads resting on
each others shoulders and reviewed our eventful days.  The proposal for an
English office had got a stage further in his mind.  Late summer or early
autumn.  Staff would be needed.  Young, bright, definitely someone fluent
in Italian.  Gabe and Lorenzo were possibilities.  Just a suggestion.
Something to drop hints about.

     My triumph with Logan and Curt was so self-evident.  Curt never even
had to ask what question I had posed to Logan.  I told Tris Pugsy's tale of
a dismissive father.  Pugsy's too good for all that shit to happen was his
considered reply.  We snuggled closer and laughed, kindly, about Liam and
the way he had emerged.... ....like a radiant butterfly from a hard-shelled
chrysalis.  A bit far-fetched but good enough for a late night simile I
said.  "Bed!" said Tris and two happy and contented young men satisfied one
further need before dropping off in perfect slumber.

To be continued: