Date: Wed, 29 Jun 2005 15:23:31 +0100
From: Mike Arram <marram@wanadoo.co.uk>
Subject: Terry & the Peachers 15

This story follows on from an earlier Nifty story published on the College
site -- 'The Decent Inn'.  It follows up on some of the loose ends and some
of the marginal characters in the earlier story, as well as continuing the
story of the rocky romance of Matthew White and Andy Peacher, and the story
of their friend Paul Oscott.  The institutions named in it are (almost) all
imaginary.  Matthew's home university is in an entirely fictional
university city in England somewhere between Reading and Swindon and its
resemblances to any real university are simply generic.  The persons
described in the story are also fictitious and bear no resemblance to any
living person.

The story contains graphic depictions of sex, mostly 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


'Well, that's that,' said Matt as he put the phone down.  'No Ansons, no
Whittakers, no Pellews, no Gowers, and no Pigotts.'
  'It was worth a try.  And, who knows, maybe he really isn't in town.'
  'That's good?'  Matt looked unconvinced. 'Better the devil you know,
Terry.'
  'That devil I could do without.  So it's back to Plan A, shadowing
Paulie.'
  'I'm off to the university, coming?'  Matt stood up and pulled out a
shoulder bag.
  'Sure.  I'll pop off afterwards and see me mum and dad.  Didn't you have
a plan to go up to Northampton, Matt?'
  'I will, but later.'
  They took a leisurely walk through the city centre, reminiscing about
their earlier lives.  Terry had slid back into the local patois.
  'Iss better now I've left,' Terry decided.  'I like home, even though
it's a boring city, wiv nothing much going on.  Still, iss home, iss
familiar.  But now I get to see all the places I ever wanted, and the lives
of the rich and famous.  Christ, I danced in the White House!  And I can
come back here and see how far I've travelled in the meantime.'
  'It's different for me, Terry.  This place was the first time I'd left
home to live on my own.  It was liberation and possibilities.  It still
feels oddly exciting to be here.'
  Terry paused at a sidestreet.  'Hey ... y'know wass down here Matt?'
  'The Queen's.'
  'Come on, I wanna say hello to Frank and the boys.'
  'OK then, let's do it.  But not too long.  I've got to see Dr Faber at
three.'  The King's Cross was usually pretty empty in midday, and the same
was true that day, although there was a scattering of drinkers, and several
men at the bar.'
  The barman, a waspish and vinegary middle-aged man, looked over when
Terry entered.  He snorted, 'If you want your job back, forget it Terry
boy.  Looks like you don' need the money anyway.  Being screwed by a
millionaire are you?'
  'Love you too Frank.  Just here as a customer, so be polite.  Mine's a
bitter.  Matt?'
  'At this time of day, a gin and tonic.'  Frank's eyes were drawn towards
Matt and lingered.  Several other heads had turned.
  'Don't I know you from somewhere?'  Terry gave an evil grin, 'You
probably wanked over his picture, Frank.  This is Matthew White.'
  'Fuck off, Terry.  Sorry about him Mr White, he crawled out of the gutter
and we gave him a bar job because we were sorry for him.'
  'Steve still here?'  asked Matt.
  'You know Steve Wharton?' asked Frank and Terry simultaneously.
  'Old mate from college.'
  'He never said.  He still helps out some evenings.  I'm expecting him
tonight in fact.'
  They collected their drinks and found as quiet a corner as they could.
  'So you and Steve ...?' ventured Terry.
  'Steve had a thing about me for years, a bloody annoying thing in fact.
He tried to beat up Andy once, because he was with me.  Fortunately he was
so pissed at the time he couldn't have knocked over a four year old.  He
only snapped out of it last year, when he took up with Dave Evans.'
  'Christ, I know both of 'em.  I used to work on Saturday nights with
Steve, and Dave was always here, naturally enough, sitting at the bar with
his tongue hangin' out staring at Steve's muscles.  They never mentioned
you and Andy though.  As for booze, I never saw Steve take a drop.'
  'Ah, that would have been because of Dave.  Another one of my admirers.
They got together for a fan club meeting one day and discovered how sad
they were, so they got off with each other instead.'
  'Sounds very ... romantic.  Dave and Steve are still together and pretty
happy, especially Dave.  Steve is quite the sexual athlete: massive
stamina, and the stamina is not the only massive thing he has, according to
rumour.'
  Matt pondered for a moment, 'We need to talk with Steve, he's a useful
sort of bloke.  Anyway, let's down these, and then get along.  You go see
your parents and I'll go see my supervisor.  We'll meet up here again at
six thirty, OK?'

Terry grabbed a taxi to get home, rather than walk the streets and get
recognised by one of Anson's men.  His dad and mum were both home.  He had
the best chat he had ever had with his father and had a lot of fun
describing his new job, watching his father's jaw descend.  He also began
some guarded enquiries as to the likelihood of his father, night watch
officer for the Central Division, stepping up patrols on Finkle Road.  He
hinted that his employer Mr Peacher was staying there incognito and needed
screening from the press.  His father was receptive to the idea, which
astonished Terry no end.  'Great.  Thanks dad.'
  'That's OK son, I'm really glad to see you looking so happy and healthy.
And ...  don't get me wrong ... you've, er, changed a bit.  Not so
in-your-face gay, if you know what I mean.  Not that I've got any objection
to you being gay, but you did play up the limp-wristed thing more than a
bit.'
  'Ah well, dad, that was to shock you.'
  'I'd more or less guessed that.'
  He got a lift back after tea to the Queen's.  Matt was not there, but
Dave Evans was.
  'Well bloody hell, Terry O'Brien.  I like the clothes, like the hair,
like the style too,' he marvelled.  'Who gave you a makeover?'
  'Lo, Taff.  Like the contacts ... given up the specs I see.  Where's your
boyfriend?'
  'Be in later ... and how're you?'
  'Working for Andy Peacher.'
  'No.  Seriously?  Little Andy?  That's landing on your feet.  Where's
your boss?'
  'France, but Matt's here.'  Dave looked momentarily confused, but
rallied. 'Good.  I'd like to see Matt ... well, who wouldn't, eh?'
  'You'll see him in a few minutes, then.  I was supposed to meet him
here.'
 Terry got the drinks, chatting with some of the regulars, catching up on
the news.  He circulated back to Dave.
  'Dave, you seen this guy lately in the Queen's?'  He produced the picture
of Anson copied from one of his passports, the one in the name of John
Whittaker.
  'You with the cops now, Terry?'
  'Not quite.'
  Dave looked at the photo closely, 'Looks a little familiar, but I can't
remember seeing him recently.  Hang on, I'll go show Darren over there.  He
was talking to him here once.'  He disappeared over to a table on the far
side, where a couple of shaved heads in denims were drinking.  He talked a
while and came back.  'Dazzo says he saw him last week, not here but in the
Lamb and Flag.  He was trying to get Dazzo and his mate interested in a
group sex session with another mate of his.  Made the mistake of offering
Dazzo money.'
  'Shit.  That's interesting, that's very interesting.'  Steve and Matt
came in together, laughing, at this point.  Steve had his big arm
affectionately round Matt's shoulder.  Terry caught the look in Dave's
eyes, a mixture of faint jealousy and baffled lust, before it was wiped out
by Steve coming up, leaning in and kissing the Welshman thoroughly; he
pulled Dave onto his knee.
  Matt sat down, and smiled a little ruefully at Dave.  He took his hand
gently and squeezed it, as if he was visiting a sick friend.  'Good to see
you, Dave.  How's the MA going.'
  'Don't like the theory side, but the dissertation's rivetting work.  I'm
doing the decline of the coal industry in the Monmouthshire Valleys in the
twentieth century.  Doesn't interest anyone else, but fun if you're from a
mining family in Tredegar.'
  'And Steve?'
  'He's interested in tunnelling too.'  Steve guffawed.
  'I asked for that.  No, what I meant ...'
  'I know what you meant, Matt.  He's settled down to some serious work,
haven't you Steve?  My money's on an upper second.'
  'I been really good.  I've done everything Davey told me to do, even
grown my hair back.'  Steve ruffled the thick unkempt mass of his chestnut
hair with a fetching grin.  Terry thought he looked pretty hot and even
caught himself wondering what Dave's attitude would be to sharing his hunk.
Perhaps not, he told himself sternly: keep your mind on the job in hand.
He excused himself and went out into the backyard where the empty steel
barrels were stacked.  He put a call through to France, just to check up on
Mark Rudat, and show him he wasn't forgotten.  He had a cheerful exchange
of jokes and a brief update on the house search round the city.
  When he returned to the bar there had been a change in mood.  Someone had
said something he should not have, and Dave in particular looked
uncomfortable.  Matt was suddenly keen to wind up and get back to the
hotel.  Terry shrugged, downed his drink and followed Matt out, after
saying his farewells to the others.
  Matt was silent as they walked back through the city streets.  The city
had emptied of workers, but was beginning to fill up with revellers.
Parties of underdressed girls and already tipsy boys were chattering
enthusiastically and forcing others off the pavements.  It was as he was
jostled by a big group of Goths into the entrance of the indoor market,
that Terry noticed a familiar face making its way down the other side of
High Street.  He pulled Matt in after him.  Matt looked a question.
  'It's Anson's sidekick, Laurie.'  The man had not apparently noticed
them, and they became very interested momentarily in a jeweller's
shopfront.
  'OK, Matt, I'm off after him.  Oh, and by the way, Anson was in town last
week.  Go and e-mail an alert to Jenna at Paulie's.'  Matt was gaping as
Terry sidled off after the group of Goths, using them to screen him from
Laurie's observation.  They turned right at the top of High Street, while
Laurie turned left on to the Swindon Road.  This was not good, as the
Swindon Road led over the river bridge and cut straight through an endless
suburbia, with only occasional shops, garages and Pentecostalist churches
to lend interest and cover until it launched out of the city into a
wasteland of industrial estates.  This was Riverside, which Northsiders
like Terry despised.  But just past the bridge was the Holiday Inn, a
seven-storey block set back behind a car park full of flagstaffs.  Terry
took a gamble.  He let Laurie cross the bridge and disappear.  Then he ran
across, just in time to see him, as expected, cross into the Holiday Inn.
Terry smirked to himself.
  He put on his shades and sauntered into the reception area.  Laurie was
nowhere to be seen now, but Terry sidled cautiously into the bar.  It was
populated with a scattering of salesmen, but no faces he recognised.  He
got a pint and took up station where he could watch the exit and the lifts.
He rang Matt's number on his mobile.  He picked up a discarded paper and
pretended to read the racing pages.
  'Lo Matt.  Did you e-mail Jenna?'
  'I certainly did.  What was that about Anson?'
  'He was in town last week, spotted by some friends of friends in the Lamb
and Flag.  So we can assume that a move against Paulie is imminent.  And
now we know where their base is.  Isn't that grand.  If only we had more
troops.  We can't protect Paul and shadow this lot at the same time.  What
I suggest is that me and Jenna meet up at nine.  Tell her to come here and
join me in the bar.  OK?'
  'What about me?'
  'Matt, thanks for the offer, but your face rules you out other than as
logistical support and sympathy.  We'll meet at the Radisson for breakfast,
same time as this morning.'
  'OK Terry.  By the way, you're good at this.'
  'Cheers, Matt me mate.  It's all that cottaging I did in me youth.  It's
payin' off dividends now.'
   Jenna turned up promptly.  She pretended to be his girlfriend, and took
him by surprise when she closed in for quite a long kiss.  He kissed back
imagining that she was a really hot young gay twink, it almost worked.
  He smiled, 'Good day, darling?'  And as he was saying it, there came a
sudden pang; a sudden realisation of what life would be like if Jenna and
he were really what they were pretending to be.  He would be mainstream, no
one would look at him oddly or coldly.  He would be acceptable and his
parents would be happy ...  Now where the hell had that come from, he
wondered.
  She smiled back, 'Yes, dear.  That Paul is quite a guy, one of the most
interesting days I've ever spent.  He can really explain Joyce.'
  'It's a great thing that you're interested in English literature.'
  'I wasn't, but I am now.  But apart from that, the BMW was back.  It took
off after six, when a police patrol car pulled up alongside and asked a few
pointed questions.  It's a disk parking zone, and they weren't happy about
his stay there, I gather.  I'm afraid it's one of Anson's men alright.  He
has quite a team here, we're way outnumbered.  And they won't use the BMW
again.'
  Terry smiled to himself.  His dad had been prompt to act.  'Tsk,' he
said. 'We'll keep watch on this place for a while together.  I don't
suppose you'll want to stay in a bar like this on your own for too long.
All these salesmen will think they're in with a chance and you'll just get
conspicuous.  I suppose Paulie will be OK for a bit now the BMW had been
chased off.'
  Despite their hopes, Laurie didn't resurface, nor anyone else they
recognised.  They left at ten thirty.

The police were very evident on Finkle Road that night.  Terry began to
think his dad had overdone it, but it didn't seem that the house was under
observation while Team Anson changed their car.  Terry and Paul did not
make love again, although Terry insisted to himself that it was not because
of Matt's scolding.  In the morning, he slipped out the back over an
obscure side gate he knew, as Jenna took the day shift.
  After a shower at the Radisson he met Matt for breakfast.  Matt seemed
disconsolate again.  Terry followed him back to his suite.  He sat gloomily
on the sofa, while Terry tried to look attentive.  Matt was not his boss,
but since Matt slept with his boss, it amounted to more or less the same
thing.
  Eventually he said, 'I feel as useless here as I did in France, Terry.
So I'm off to Northampton.  I've got a hire car ordered for twelve.'
  Terry nodded, 'You're not useless Matt, it's just you're too well-known a
face for surveillance work.  I'd rather you were here, it's good to talk to
you, but I understand if you want to go see your parents.  Any chance
you'll be back in a few days?'
  'It's Saturday.  Mum will want to go to church with me tomorrow.  I'll be
back on Monday some time, I'll keep the suite.  That OK with you?'
  'Sure.  But I have a feeling that things may well come to head before
then.'
  'You know this?'
  'Just a feeling.  The jackals are gathering.  I wouldn't be surprised if
Anson doesn't turn up today or tomorrow.'
  'Monday then.  But have you any plan for dealing with a snatch attempt on
Paul or an assault on Finkle Road?'
  'Jenna and me have talked it over.  We've kept Paulie indoors, but he's
got to come out soon or it'll look odd.  We've got to make it look natural.
So we're going to let him take a drive to church on Sunday morning for
mass, we expect he'll be followed.  But there's a thing we can do in the
church car park ... you remember it?'
  'I do.'
  'Well, let's just say that Paulie will innocently disappear towards the
M4, and any pursuer may find it difficult to follow him.'
  'And where will he go?'
  'Crouch End, I expect, with Ben and Alex.  We can keep him out of
circulation there for a few days.  That'll bugger up Anson's plans for a
while.  That's all we've really got to do, keep the target shifting for a
couple of weeks while not looking as though we are.  As soon as the axe
comes down in the Peacher empire, we can take more robust measures.  But by
then Anson will have lost interest.  Vengeance is no fun if you're not
being paid for it.'
  'Had it occurred to you, Terry, that you would then become the target?'
  'Only if he knew I was here.  Which I don't think he can know.  The
sources in Peacherland that might have told him have been shut down.'

Jenna and Terry stood together at the back of mass on Sunday morning.  The
church of St Francis of Assisi was quite full.  At the angelus, Paul joined
the early leavers, and Jenna slipped out with him, but showed no
recognition.  Terry ambled out a little later, and was not unhappy to be
stopped by Fr Allenby, an elderly and intelligent priest who in normal
circumstances he would have run from.  Fr Allenby had an uncomfortable
knack of guessing what went on in people's heads.
  'So hello Terry.  It's been a while.'
  'Good to see you too, father.'
  'And who was the young lady I saw you standing with, or were appearances
deceiving me?'
  'No, she was a lady. Just a colleague who is in town.'
  'Aah, for a moment I thought that there had been a miracle and your
orientation had veered wildly.'  Fr Allenby had been school chaplain when
Terry had come out.  He had been very supportive.  And as the priest said
what he said, that fleeting pang came again to Terry, what if he was a
straight ...
  'No father, still happy to be gay,' he asserted strongly.
  'You certainly seem happier, my boy, and better dressed.  New job?'
  'New job ... and a boyfriend.'  Now why, Terry said to himself, did I
tell him that?
  But the old man smiled mildly and said, 'That's good.  It's only love
that changes things for the better in this world, Terry.  And you won't
argue with me when I say that there're things about you that need
changing.'
  'Er ... no, father.'  He shook his hand and pressed on out.  Terry smiled
broadly as he stopped inside the porch.  Paul's silver Rover had already
disappeared, and Jenna - acting the dumb blonde - had reversed and stalled
across the exit which led to the M4 feeder road on to which Paul had
escaped.  A people carrier driven by Laurie, but with two others in it, was
stuck.  It had tried to get past Jenna, and then tried to reverse to the
further exit, only to find it blocked by the crowd of worshippers.  Laurie
was by this time thumping the wheel and swearing.  Terry edged behind the
church notice board and tried to memorise the faces of Laurie's companions.
He did not recognise them, although one of them was stocky enough to have
been BMW man.  Eventually Jenna managed to extricate her car, and they
drove off forlornly after Paul, but they would never catch him up now.
Jenna pulled in to pick up Terry.
  'That went well, Jen.'
  'Call me Jen again, and I'll shatter each of your metatarsals
individually.'
  'I might enjoy pain.'
  'Not the way I do it.'  Terry giggled, 'Did you get a good look at Team
Anson.'
  'I did, as I was fluttering helplessly at the controls.  That was Laurie
at the wheel, I imagine.'
  'Yes it was.'
  'I'll recognise the other two when I see them again.  So what about the
next four days?  No Paul, nothing to do.'
  'There's nothing stopping you taking a couple of days to yourself, if you
want.'
  'Shall do, then.  What about you?'
  'I'll wait for Matt, he's coming back tomorrow.  I have an idea about the
Holiday Inn I want to pursue.  I'll see you at the Radisson: Wednesday at
nine thirty in the morning.'

Terry sat in the Radisson bar on Sunday evening, watching the sports
channel and nursing a pint.  He was feeling relaxed and fancy free.  He was
also tingling with suppressed excitement.  He felt on a roll this evening
and his libido was high.  He'd been observing the other men at the bar, and
two were shooting speculative glances, but none of them were the slim, shy
and dark types that got him fired up.  He was more choosy these days.  At
that moment a small backside in tight dark trousers floated past his view.
A young waiter tidying up flashed a shy and interested glance at him.  He
smiled back encouragingly, but the boy disappeared, although not without a
backward glance from the door.  He must have been Ramon's age.
  After half an hour, Terry, disappointed, gave in.  He finished his glass,
and went to the bar to hand it to the barman.  Having worked behind the
bar, he had a conscience about causing other barmen unnecessary work.
  'Thanks.  Another drink sir?'
  'No thanks.  It's quiet in here.'
  Usually is, sir.  The sort of client we have isn't into karaoke and live
bands.  The management don't want us on the city pub crawl circuit.'
  'Don't get me wrong.  There are nights I like it quiet too, and tonight
seems to be one of them.  Can I get some quick food?'
  'There's room service or the carvery.'
  'Think I'll take room service.  Night.'  Terry had a shower when he got
back, put on a terry robe, sat on the bed and got out the room service
menu.  He put in his order.  Twenty minutes later he hit the jackpot.  He
opened the door on the young waiter from the bar, who looked momentarily
confused and tongue-tied, before apologising and bringing in his trolley.
Terry suddenly knew his luck was in.  How to manage this.
  The boy shot a look at Terry under his long lashes and asked if he should
put the food on the table.  Terry came up quite close and thanked him.  The
boy began unloading, and whether it was nerves or a hopeful strategy,
dropped the cutlery.  Terry shot down beside him to pick them up, the robe
revealing rather a lot of the parts of him which were not generally on
display, and his hand closing over the boy's.  He clung on as they got up.
'What's you name?'
  'Will,' was the low reply.
  'I'm Terry.  When are you off duty?'
  'Half an hour.'
  'I'll still be here in half an hour.'
  'Might see you then.'  He gave Terry a sudden sexy look that reminded him
of his own lubricious grin.
  The boy left and forty five minutes later there was a soft knock on his
door.  It was Will of course, in an outdoor coat.  He squeezed in and stood
close to Terry, not sure what to do next.  Terry leaned in and touched the
boy's lips with his own, licking them lightly.  They tasted of toothpaste.
This was sweet, the boy had tried to get ready.  Then Terry moved in closer
and began a proper kiss, pushing onto the warmth and wetness of his mouth.
Their arms wrapped round each other, and Terry felt the boy's arousal
through his trousers.
  Terry broke off the kiss.  'You done this before?'
  Will's eyes dropped, 'Not really ... does that matter?'
  'We'll take it slow, and see where you want to go.'
  'I want to go all the way.'  Will looked very serious about it, 'I'm
ready to lose it, Terry.'
  Terry led him into the bathroom, and he undressed the boy.  He was slim,
slender- limbed and quite well-proportioned; Terry admired his gorgeous
neat ankles and narrow feet.  Terry threw off his own robe, and the boy
admired him, 'Jesus, you're fantastic.  Man, what a cock.'
  'Let's see your package, Will.'  He pushed down the boy's boxers over his
white buttocks, and admired in his turn the modest white dick that sprang
out.
  'It's not very big,' said Will apologetically.  'And don't say size
doesn't count.'
  'It's beautiful.'
  'Really?'
  'Yeah.'  Terry took the naked boy in his arms and meshed their groins.
Will was trembling noticeably.  He led him over to the shower, turned it on
and pulled Will in.  He began soaping him up and kissing him.  Finally he
got down to his arse.  The boy caught his breath as Terry's fingers found
his anus and began working soap into his crack, and then deeper into him.
The anal ring gave, and with the boy bracing himself in the stream of water
against the tiles, Terry began giving him a thorough and enjoyable
finger-fucking.  He was glad he had.  Will hadn't cleaned in there
recently.
  Terry finished him off and left the water.  They dried and Terry led him
to the bed.  'Let's get serious, babe,' he said, placing Will sitting on
the edge.  He got between his legs and began a thorough blow job; the boy
was soon panting and groaning, and shot hot semen into his mouth after only
a minute's worth of excitement.
  Will looked disappointed when he had recovered his breath, 'You want
more?'  He nodded.  Terry swarmed up on to the bed and pulled Will up next
to him.  They kissed and caressed for a while, Will drawn to Terry's
rampant manhood.  Eventually he moved down and began to take it into his
mouth.
  'Mmm.  That's good, babe.  Don't brush it with your teeth.  Try playing
with my balls and arse too ... real good.'  After five minutes solid
attention, Terry shot his load.  Will had drawn back when he felt the
pulsing of Terry's cock, and he sprayed him thickly over his lower face and
neck.  Terry moved down and licked it up, closing on the boy's mouth to
share his taste.  As he kissed the boy's small ears, he whispered, 'Ready
for some arse, soldier?'
  'What, you mean, up your bum?'  He sounded unbelieving, 'I thought you'd
want to do me.'
  'Maybe later, you want there to be a later, don't you?'
  'Oh yes, Terry ... yes please.'  He turned on his back, gave his bedside
lube to Will and told him to get busy, and Will tentatively went to work on
his anus, chirping with delight when he found he could get more and more
fingers into Terry's experienced hole.  Then Terry sat up, fitted a condom
on the boy, and invited him in.  Will plunged in enthusiastically, but made
a creditable job of postponing his ejaculation.  But eventually he grunted
and came, and fell forward on to Terry.  Terry turned over. He liked post
coital hugging and kissing, it was one of the many nice things about him.
The boy was almost cross- eyed with confusion and content as he wrapped him
in his arms.
  They lay together, and Will began spilling out the story of his short
life, naked in soul as well as body.  Terry was suddenly alarmed; there
were going to be consequences.  It was just like Dom all over again.  But
Dom had at least taught Terry to listen, and listen he did, kissing the boy
and smiling at him as he talked.  He heard about his problems with his
little brothers, his parents not understanding him, and the other boys he
dreamed of sleeping with but whom he couldn't be sure of.  At last Will
looked across at the clock, leapt up and started dressing.
  'Shit.  Gotta get home, iss college tomorrow, and me parents wanted me
home half an hour ago.'  Will was a Riversider, on one of the fifties
estates.  'I'm on tomorrow night at seven ... but I could be here earlier.'
  'That'd be great, Will ... oh and one other thing.'
  'Yeah?'
  'You're really beautiful, y'know, and so sexy.'  The boy's eyes
glistened, he kissed Terry briefly, smiled and left.  Phew!  More like
Simon than Dom, Terry noted with relief.

On Monday Terry booked into the Holiday Inn for two days, not that he was
expecting to sleep there.  He smiled to himself as he used the name of
Hartash.  He took station in the bar again and concealed himself in a
convenient corner where he could watch the reception area.  So when one of
Team Anson arrived he was out like a shot and saw the room number he was
given.
  Will's soft tap on the door found Terry uncharacteristically nervous.  He
opened the door and the boy slid in, his face shining.  He embraced and
kissed Terry with a clumsy passion that was irresistible.  He was already
undressing as they reached the bed.  Naked, they lay together for a while
stroking and kissing.  Terry's hand was drawn more and more to the warm
damp area between Will's legs, stroking and cupping his balls and finally
fingering round his anus.  He made up a pile of pillows against the
headboard to support Will reclining upright and then, with the boy's legs
hooked up over his shoulders, he began licking and sucking at the muscles
of his anus.  Will obliged with sighing and some low moaning.  Terry's
tongue was succeeded in time by his oiled fingers, and by then Will was
gasping and arching with the abandon that Terry loved.  'Oh God! Oh Christ!
I didn't know it would be like this!' he squealed as he squirmed under
Terry's practised fingers.
  Terry pulled back, pushing Will's legs back on to his chest.  His hole
was well opened and gaping slightly as the boy kept pushing down on it with
his pelvic muscles as Terry had taught him.  He looked at the boy's nervous
and expectant face.  'We'll take this slowly, babe.'  He lined himself up
at the boy's hole, put on a condom, oiled it, and made contact.  A slight
push brought half his cock head into Will, who groaned and clamped down,
his muscles trying to push Terry out.  Will did not yell, but his face took
on a look of preoccupation.  It took quite a while for him to pop inside
his muscle ring, which caused the boy to gasp with pain when it happened.
Then Will stopped grimacing and let out his breath in a shuddering heave.
'Babe, we'll just let gravity take you slowly down my length, OK?'  Will
gave a brave little nod.  His hand snaked down to feel where Terry's cock
was penetrating him, and as he shifted on it, his lips gave a little
gasping 'Ooh!'
  Terry loved that long fifteen minutes as Will slowly impaled himself on
his cock, squirming, reaching down and measuring his progress.  He kissed
the boy, sucked and licked at his brown nipples, until finally he was fully
inside him.
  'Wow, you did so well, babe.'
  'Terry ... God you're big.  I feel like I'm doin' the biggest crap in me
life.'
  'Believe me, babe, a crap is the last thing you'll be wanting for the
next couple of days.'
  'It don't feel so bad now.' Will gave a delightful wiggle with his hips.
Terry pressed on him and began to pull out and push in, very slowly at
first, helped by the condom's lubrication.  Will grunted as the air was
pushed out of him.  Soon Terry was rhythmically stroking in and out, and
Will's enjoyment increased with the pressure on his prostate.  Terry was
loving the expression on the boy's face, by turns preoccupied and ecstatic,
his cock glistening and dripping between them with leaking cum.  The tempo
picked up and with a shout Terry came tumultuously.  He rolled to the
right, pulling Will over on top of him, kissing and embracing, still
embedded deep in his arse.  Will pulled himself off Terry's still erect
penis with a sucking noise; it slipped out of its plastic sheath.  Terry
pulled the hanging condom out of him, creditably full of his ejaculation.
  'How d'y feel, babe.'
  'Empty ... but happy.  I'm a real, grown-up queer now, aren't I?'
  'As bent as they come, me little gay lover.  You have been royally fucked
up the arse.'
   Will hugged and kissed him, stroking all over Terry's body.  He looked
seriously into his hazel eyes, 'I love you, Terry.'
  Terry's heart sank.  Will probably meant it, and he could not reply in
kind.  He loved doing what he was doing to Will.  He thought he was sweet,
and a beautiful lay.  But he did not feel for this skinny, pretty suburban
kid what he felt for Ramon, and never could.
  Rather than reply, he let his lips find Will's cock and began stimulating
him to the point of ejaculation, relishing the heavy spurt of semen when it
came, and drinking it all down.  They dozed together, until Terry prodded
the boy to dress and go on duty.
  'Promise you'll fuck me again when I come back.'
  'If your arse will stand it.'  Will disappeared with a grin and another
wiggle of his hips, sexy in its innocence.  He was back and stood another
rougher, harder pounding before midnight and then refused to leave, but
hung on to Terry through the night and wanted to be fucked again before
breakfast.  This was far more than Terry wanted.  Attractive though Will
was, Terry was only in search of sex, but the boy was clearly not mature
enough to realise this.  The shade of Dom rose to accuse Terry.  How to let
him down gently without reproaches and tears?  How about running?
  Terry packed a bag and headed over to the Holiday Inn as soon as Will had
sneaked off home early on Tuesday morning.  He took possession of the first
floor room and rang back to the Radisson.  Matt was still not returned.
  Terry lay on the bed.  The incident with Will the Willing Waiter and the
encounter with Fr Allenby had taken its toll on him.  Then there was the
fact that he had wilfully reactivated his old affair with Paul, whom he
knew was, as they say, spoken for.  He loved good sex with other young men,
and was quite happy to take bad sex with older men if that was all that was
on offer.  He had confidence in his abilities in bed and he knew he was a
kind and considerate, if indefagitable lover.  What was wearing him down
was the emotional consquences when men read more into the fuck or the
blowjob than was there; also, he guiltily admitted, there was the Ramon
factor.  In retrospect he had felt hurt when Ramon - still not much more
than a boy - proved able to read him as someone who could not stand against
his own libido.  The fact that it was true was just as irksome.  Terry was
not being allowed to be happy with himself and with his life anymore.  He
hated that.
  He rang the Radisson again and this time Matt was there; they arranged to
meet for brunch.  Terry slipped out of the Holiday Inn without seeing any
of Team Anson.  Still in bed sleeping their failure off, he imagined.
  Matt was sitting in all his moody magnificence in the restaurant, toying
with a fruit salad.  Suddenly Matt felt more of a kinship with this
beautiful man than he ever had before.  Matt made him nervous, not just
because of his looks, but because of his evident brain power.  But here he
was, as confused and unhappy as Terry, for all his advantages.
  'Morning, Matt.'
  'Hi, Terry.  So Paul got off safely then?'
  'Certainly did, Jenna was magnificent.  She's followed him up to London
to tie up some personal business.  We're not expecting Paulie back till
Friday.'
  'Good.  We need to talk, Terry.'
  'Bout what, Matt?'
  'About you and Paulie to start with.'
  'What can I say, Matt?  I didn't seduce him ... well, only a little.
What he got was what he wanted.  And look at it this way, there're issues
in his life Paulie has to work out.  Whatever you think of me, I'm just the
catalyst here.  He wanted sex with me, because I think he wanted it to find
out if sex with men was what he was all about before he committed to the
girl.  I ain't gonna haunt him or look for a relationship ...  or at least
that sort of relationship.  It was just as well it was me, wasn't it?  At
least I care for him in my funny way.'
  'Terry with the caring cock.'
  Terry wasn't going to put up with this, 'And what about you, Matt?'
  'Pardon?'
  'I can see why you might be pissed at me cos of Paulie, but there's more
to this than just Paulie, isn't there?  You've been brooding over the
landscape like a thundercloud for weeks.  You had a row with Dave Evans
over something.  So I ask, wassup?'
  The handsome face became more solemn yet, the fathomless dark eyes on the
tablecloth, like an archangel meditating on the fate of humankind.  The
silence went on for quite a while, long enough for even Terry to become
uncomfortable.  Finally Matt looked up and gave Terry a quirky smile that
almost stopped his heart ... God, the man is so very beautiful, and, he
finally admitted it, desirable.  Damn, damn, damn.  He had become another
victim of Matthew White.  His cock had sprung to attention, sniffing the
air, hoping to be let out.  Down boy.
  'Terry, you have an erection.'
  And for the first time in a long time, Terry blushed red and stuttered.
'Er, um ...  happens all the time.'  But he knew that Matt had read him,
and was amused in his Olympian way.
 'You're nineteen, Terry, and an incorrigible cruiser.  You don't need to
explain anything, but you're right ... I do.  Terry, I'm going to leave
Andy, at least for a while.  Our relationship needs time to sort itself
out.  I have no doubts that he loves me and me alone, deeply and
passionately.  The problem is me.  My head is totally fucked, not to put
too fine a point on it.  That Burnett business last year took too much out
of me.  I never had time to come to terms with it, and now all this has
erupted round me.  It's like living in the middle of a Jacobean tragedy,
and I'm not cut out to be the duchess of Malfi ... I'm just a simple,
loving queen at heart.  I told Andy last weekend not to expect me back any
time soon.  I want to put the world of wealth and power and homicide behind
me.  I'm bailing out.  I just want to be a British postgrad and get on
quietly with my work, not to travel the world dodging assassins.  Dave told
me I was being selfish, and I disagreed with him.'
  'Oh,' was all Terry could say.  Wow, he thought, the great love affair of
our days, ended, just like that.  And another part of his head told him
that he had to get in touch with Mark Rudat and put the house search in
Wiltshire on hold.