Date: Wed, 29 Jun 2005 15:27:37 +0100
From: Mike Arram <marram@wanadoo.co.uk>
Subject: Terry & the Peachers 22

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.



XXII


Richard Peacher was not a man for overblown acts of expenditure, but for
once he had let himself go.  The open part of the plateau opposite the
Santa Barbara mansion had become a temporary Gothic hall, erected by an
enormous team of set designers from Hollywood, working day and night.  Vast
webs of scaffolding had gone up and when they had come down, a passable
scaled-down facsimile of Westminster Hall stood proudly, dominating the
Peacher mansion across the lawn.  The pool had disappeared under boards and
had been skilfully turfed over.  Alongside it was the grand marquee for the
dining and dancing.  You would never have known that the pool been anything
other than a lawn.  A gigantic pergola of flowering plants and shrubs made
a grand avenue from the hall door to the mansion steps.  And it was at the
entry to this that Matt and Andy, Terry and Ramon, Peter and Tim, and young
Ed were standing awaiting the first guests.  They were all immaculate in
tailored grey morning dress, with white satin neckcloths and lavender
flower arrangements in their buttonholes.
  Matt grinned down at Ed.  'You look totally smart, Ed.'
  The boy preened himself, 'Sylvia said I wuz so cute she could cry.'
  'Don't pick your nose then,' Peter's putdown snapped out automatically.
Tim gave him a hard look, and for once Peter looked sheepish and
apologetic.  Ed ignored him, as usual.  They had too long a history of
bickering for him to pay much attention to Peter.
  'Who's boss usher?' Ed demanded.
  'Why's that important?' Andy responded with a smile.
  'Some guy's got to say where we have to stand and what we have to do.
Stands to reason, Andy.'
  'Ed's got a point,' Peter hastened to say, with one eye on Tim, looking
for his approval.  For once he stunned his little brother, who goggled at
him.  Putdowns he could ignore, but good-natured agreement was something
quite new.
  'Oh, well,' Andy pondered, 'I don't like to put myself forward, but being
Best Man, I guess I command the Honourable Company of Ushers.'
  'Hail to the Chief!' whooped Peter.
  'Andy is our leader!' echoed Ramon.
  'Command me my lord and I will obey,' laughed Tim.
  'OK boys, your enthusiasm is appreciated, but settle down.  Dad did give
me these instructions.  Here we go.  The guests come in three groups, and
Security will channel them through as follows.  Group One are what Dad
humorously called Odds and Sods: corporate executives, business friends,
academic mates, that sort.  Security will send them straight in.  They'll
start arriving in half an hour, and they've got to be in place by 10.30.
Group Two is family and close friends.  Security channels them into the
house for a pre-wedding drink and nibbles.  They get marshalled in by
10.45.  It's a lot smaller group, especially as there aren't that many
Peachers to come other than your Aunt Marjorie and Uncle Fred from Penge,
Ed.'
  'Where's Penge?'  Ed asked, intrigued.
  'You don't want to know.  Most of the family side are Sylvia's lot,
although the Cairds and the Whites count as in-laws as far as dad's
concerned.  But finally there is Group Three, the Big Ones.  The State
Governor, the British ambassador, representing the Queen, the Secretary of
State, and of course, the President, as well as some lesser royals from
Sweden and Spain.  They'll come in a sort of procession and we each have to
show them to their seats.  I get the President: these are yours, I've
written them on cards.  Matt takes the ambassador first; Ramon takes the
Secretary; Ed takes Prince Gustaf of Sweden; Terry takes Princess Alix of
Spain; Tim takes the Governor and his wife, Pete and I bring in the First
Lady and Mr President last of all, after you've seated your people.  We
bring them in, we stand, the orchestra plays the presidential anthem, then
the national anthem.'  Andy's crew looked suitably awed.  'OK men, each
take a wad of programmes and practise giving them out gracefully with a
cute smile.'
  The sound of the orchestra tuning up came from within, and the last
musicians enjoying their cigarettes stubbed them out and binned them, then
disappeared inside.  The boys peered through the Gothic door.  You could
kid yourself that you really were inside a medieval hall with arcades and
pillars.  The stained glass actually looked real, although it couldn't have
been because it included subjects like computers and binary code.  Someone
had even found a large pipe organ to install for the day, and its
creditable peal joined the glorious chords of the symphony orchestra,
playing something by Widor.  It was not to be a religious service, but the
place had the feel of a church.  Masses of flowers filled the bays of the
hall.
  'I wanna pee,' Ed announced.
  'Oh ... that reminds me,' Andy added. 'Dad said you've all got to know
that there's a fully equipped toilet suite through that door there off the
first bay.  Any queries, that's where you direct them.  Got that Ed?'
  'What?'
  'You piss in there!'
  'Oh ... sure, won't be a moment.'  He scampered off, and a distant
'Cool!' echoed back into the hall before the door closed on him.
  They chatted on the grass until Ed returned, complaining that his zip had
stuck.  Andy had to take him inside to find Mrs Fuentas, who was good in
this sort of crisis.  Terry observed with some interest that Ramon and Tim
Caird had become instant friends, and they were standing, leaning close
together, chatting brightly and laughing.
  'How's it going, Pete?'  Terry asked.
  A smile lit up the boy's handsome face.  'He's not like Jordan, believe
me.  He's got a mind of his own and he's not afraid to let it out.  But
when it comes to sex ... hot damn, he'll do anything for me and he'll do it
again and again.  If I told him to strip off here and now, I swear he'd
smile and do it.  He's my dream babe.'
  'How's it going in school?'
  'I had no worries about the first Monday back, although Tim was wetting
himself.  But Matt and I picked him up, and we walked into hall together
... not holding hands, mind, but an obvious couple.  My gang was waiting
and were totally cool.  When the guys in the hall saw the way it was, Tim's
old friends who'd been driven away by the bullying were all over him.  The
real problem boys were given a walk out on to the field by my backs, and
they limped for two days afterwards.  No one dares so much as give an odd
look at Timmy babe now.  He's so happy and so much more confident.'
  'How did it go with your dad and the Cairds?'
  'You know dad. An awestruck silence descended on the house as soon as he
entered the door.  Tim's mom is big into wealth and power and to have the
wealthiest and most powerful private citizen in the USA in her front lounge
totally floored her.  Never mind that dad was there to regularise the
sexual relations between her eldest son and me.  She agreed to everything,
and then dad invited them to the wedding!  She couldn't believe it.  Tim
became her favourite child on the spot ... and he was to be an usher:
Timothy Macfarlane Caird IV, to have a leading role in the media marriage
of the year.  He'll be on the news and in the celeb mags.  She couldn't
believe it, she almost died when dad dropped in the fact that the President
would be there.  Never mind that her little Timmy will be outed nationally
as the gay lover of Peter Peacher.  She can live with that.'
  'So you don't like your mother-in-law then?'
  'No ... I didn't say that.  She's just a mother-in-law,' Peter chuckled
at the thought.  Andy returned with his littlest brother, chattering as
they came.  They came past Peter and Ed shied away as Peter reached out to
ruffle his blond head.  'What you do that for?' the boy snapped.
  'Nothing, you little dickwad, just being friendly.'
  'Yeah, well you know where you can shove your friendliness: up where
Jordan used to put it.'
  Peter looked really hurt, and perhaps it was a measure of his
determination to change towards the twins that he didn't snarl back, just
shrugged.  Terry was interested to see a sudden considering look in the
twelve-year-old's eyes.
  Andy checked his watch.  'It's getting close to Group One time, boys.
Grab your orders of service.  The odds and sods have got their seat
numbers, or should have.  There's a list here if they've forgotten.
Smile.'  Men in suits and women in frocks and hats began drifting towards
the pergola entrance and soon they were very busy, guiding, charming and
reassuring.  Little Ed was a major hit with the women.
  'Love the hat, Rachel,' admired Matt.  'Sort of like a giant meringue
with feathers.'
  'Thank you, Matt.  I think.  Kiss for me, kiss for Paulie.'  Paul grabbed
Matt's hand, kissed him, then joined with Andy and Terry, in a big group
hug.
  Ed interrupted it by hopping up and down and shouting, 'It's Air Force
One!  Lookit!'  And it was.  The blue Boeing 727 was descending into the
municipal airport.  The two escorting military jets overflew it, howling as
they banked over the house, the thunder of their engines reflected back by
the mountains.  Ed's mouth was hanging open, 'I so wanna be president.'
Matt reflected that with Ed's background and the nature of the American
political system, the dream might just become reality.
  Another flood of guests passed them by, bearing Paul and Rachel away.
Terry was standing next to Peter when he felt him stiffen and stare.  Terry
looked in the same direction.  A vaguely familiar face was in the crowd
coming towards them.  Terry had to look twice before he recognised Travis,
tagging along behind his father the Chancellor and his mother.  He turned
to Peter, 'Wow, Pete.  He's changed in two years.'
  The former beauty queen of the Santa Barbara gay scene had got fat, and
pouchy around the face.  Travis was not unpleasing at twenty-one, but if
you had known what he had looked like at nineteen, the change was a
tragedy.  Terry looked over at Matt, catching his celestial profile.  Matt
had grown more rather than less beautiful in the five years he had known
him.  Terry wondered how much personality and life style had to do with
looks: Travis had been hooked on lechery and self indulgence; his face told
its story.  Travis slipped past without acknowledging either of them.
  The Stuyvessants arrived, along with Hampton, who looked a bit
apprehensively at the ushers, especially Terry.  Andy of course had never
known about his designs on him, but Matt gave him a hard look.  Terry, on
the other hand, was in a mood to be generous and he took Hampton's hand
with a warm smile.
  'Hope things are better for you, Hampton.'  Stuyvessant seemed relieved
at the generous reception.
  'Er yeah, Terry.  I did the decent thing and found a rich girl to marry.
She's real nice, and we've got a Hampton Stuyvessant V on the way.'
  Terry laughed happily, 'So you've forgotten what I meant to you ... isn't
that typical, one night and you blew me out.'
  Hampton gave a tight grin.  'You were never my type, Terry.'
  Finally there was a lull in the rush to get into the wedding hall.
  'The President is being met by the Governor, and they'll be on their way
up the hill in a few minutes,' said Andy, 'here come the family guests.'
  'Hi mum, hi dad!'  Matt grinned.  It was his parents from Northampton,
whom Richard Peacher reckoned to be unofficial in-laws.  His dad looked
flushed and uncomfortable in his grey suit.  He did not like foreign travel
much, and America not at all.  But the surprising thing was that Richard
and his dad got on like a house on fire.  His dad was the only man whom
Matt had seen Richard Peacher chatting to as if he enjoyed it; they called
each other Tony and Dick.  Matt had caught the two of them drinking whisky
and laughing on the back patio the previous night, and they had looked
amused when he had appeared.  He rather thought that they had been talking
about him and Andy.  It was disconcerting when fathers did that.  His mum
stood back and admired her son.  'Ooh, you look wonderful, Matty love.
Hullo Andy dear, you look beautiful too.'  Andy hugged and kissed Matt's
mum, who had always had a very soft spot for him.  She had accepted him as
her son's lover with no reservations, which had confirmed Andy's regard for
her.
  'Did you hear about Carl?' Matt's dad asked. Carl was Matt's younger
brother and an Olympic swimmer.  'He took the UK butterfly record in
Sunderland.  He's got a big sponsorship deal now.  There's a chance that
between the two of you, I may spend my years of retirement in some
comfort.'
  'Cheers dad; keep paying into your pension scheme.  Got your seat number?
OK.  You're down the front on the right.  Get a move on.  The President's
security will be here soon and all hell will break loose.'
  'Don't push, love.'
  Matt looked over to where Mrs Caird was fluttering round Tim and
straightening his already perfectly arranged cravat.  Peter was looking
highly amused, and was amicably talking to Tim's father.
  The family guests were all safely seated when the presidential motorcade
arrived.  The flashing of cameras from the front gate was visible even in
the full California daylight.  Richard Peacher, his three sons and the
other VIPs were on the steps of the mansion as the Secret Service swarmed
around the open door of the black armoured Lincoln with the presidential
seal on the door.
  The president and the governor too were in morning suits, which impressed
Matt, as he observed the scene from the sidelines.  Terry had lifted Tim on
his shoulders so he could get a better view.  Tim had a big digital camera.
  'Isn't he heavy?'  asked Matt.
  'You should see some of the women I've had to lift while dancing.'
  'Look,' Tim shouted down, 'He's shaking hands with my Petey.  Got a great
one of that.  Oops, he's coming this way.  Let me down.'
  Andy got his ushers in line, and Terry, Ramon, Matt and Tim got to shake
the presidential and gubernatorial hands.  Matt had quite a chat with the
President, who had the politician's instinct for recognising famous faces
and making connections.  White House photographers made a big thing about
striking the best pose, discretely positioning them to advantage as they
talked.  The President was quite funny about it.
  In the meantime the procession had formed.  Matt took the British
Ambassador, and Ramon took the Secretary of State down the aisle, and the
rest followed on at intervals.  Finally Andy and Peter escorted the
President and First Lady down, and they all stood at the front as the
anthems were played.  Andy remembered to do the American thing and put his
right hand to his chest, after his brother had nudged him.  As the
President sat and the congregation took their seats, Andy stood up next to
his father and the Wedding March began.

  'Dad can dance?'  Peter asked Andy curiously.
  'Think so.  He didn't complain when I suggested he lead off with Sylvia
after the speeches.'
  'How's your speech, by the way?'
  'Don't ask.'  The speeches happened.  Andy's was a great success.  As
Matt observed to Terry and Ramon, it wouldn't have quite suited British
tastes, being far too openly emotional, but it was genuine and funny and
the Americans loved it.  Finally the orchestra struck up a waltz and
Richard and the new Mrs Peacher rose and took the floor of the huge
marquee.  Sylvia was looking superb in lavender chiffon, her pregnancy
still barely visible and artfully disguised by the dress.  They moved
confidently out on to the floor and were away.  Polite applause rippled
round the room.  Then the President and the First Lady joined them, and
there was more applause.
  Suddenly Matt was aware that every face was looking at Andy.  He rose,
smiled gently and held out his hand to Matt, whose stomach lurched.  There
was an audible gasp as he too rose, closed with his boyfriend and danced
out on to the floor.  Then a louder ripple of applause circled out as their
many friends expressed their approval; Terry and Peter whistled.  Matt was
just glad of the lessons he'd taken from Terry.  The floor rapidly filled
with whirling couples, amongst whom Matt saw Terry and Ramon dancing
beautifully, Ed and Harriet being very sweet, and Peter and Tim moving a
lot less elegantly but nonetheless enthusiastically.
  Matt danced a lot that evening.  He got to dance with Sylvia, his mum,
Harriet, Peter and Terry.  But mostly he danced with his Andy, who was
delighted that they'd finally got the chance to express themselves and
their relationship properly and publicly on the floor.
  'I know you hate this, but I love you for doing it,' Andy said.
  'It's not so bad.  Thanks to Terry, I don't feel like a two left-footed
geek any more.  In fact, I'm enjoying it.'  The music had shifted to
modern, and the gay couples had taken over a corner of the floor.  Terry
was of course the star, and it was stunning just to watch him.  A year in
John Adams in leotards had polished his considerable native talents.  Peter
and Tim were laughing as they hopelessly tried to copy his moves.
  It was ten when Richard and Sylvia Peacher went off in their car to the
airport.  The honeymoon was to be in the Peacher house on St Kitts, and
then on his Caribbean yacht.  The twins were going to join Andy and Peter
in Annandale in a few days, for the duration.  The four younger boys stood
out on the lawn beside the wedding hall, which would be gone in two days,
despite seeming to possess the solidity of the ages.  The stars were out
and the party was still going on, with Andy and Matt now playing hosts.
  'My place?'  Terry suggested to Peter and Tim.  He still had the condo in
the city, although Mark and Jenna used it most of the time when they came
to liaise with the Peacher head office.  The two couples crowded into a car
which deposited them on Pacific Boulevard.
  'No more booze for you two,' Terry said to Peter and Tim.  They looked
peeved, but found something else to do, which involved lots of lip contact
and losing their jackets, ties and waistcoats.  Terry and Ramon watched
them for a while and then decided to get into the same activity for
themselves.
  When Terry looked back at them his penis reared suddenly to full height.
Peter and Tim had not stopped and were struggling out of the last of their
clothes without ending their lip lock.  Terry was not sure what to say, and
as he hesitated the two were naked and Tim had gone down on his boy lover.
He caught Peter's eyes, lustful and ready to be defiant.  He was going to
have sex then and there, and the fact that he was going to be watched was
not going to stop him, quite the opposite.  Ramon caught Terry's eyes too,
and the sultry look there echoed something in his own mind.  They too were
soon naked and Ramon was in the same position as Tim.  The two boys grinned
at each other around their lovers' tools.  And Terry realised that this was
a set up between Ramon and Tim.
  Terry looked over at Peter on the sofa, gorgeous in complete sexual
abandon under his lover's attentions, his arms stretched over his head and
his legs splayed as he moaned and squirmed.  His own cock swelled even
further, especially at the glimpse of Tim's brown hole between his small
white buttocks as he shifted position, he desperately wanted that arse, or
any arse.  It was a while since he had indulged in group sex, and never
with a pair as delightful and sexy as these two teenagers.  Tim and Ramon
were watching each other equally intently.
  'Get on the sofa next to Pete, Terry, and let Pete know you're there,'
Ramon said as he broke off for a moment.  Terry complied and as soon as he
did, Peter moved on him and kissed him deeply, licking into his mouth and
sucking on his lips.  This was a sweet moment for Terry.  He had resisted
his passion for the young boy's body so long that the sudden free offering
of it sent him over the edge, he leaned in and stroked the Peter's upper
body, rubbing and tweaking on the boy's pink left nipple.  Terry had lost
all inhibitions, not something he was well-provided with in any case.
Ramon and Tim were frantically wanking each other with one hand as they
sucked their lovers.
  Peter gave a groan as he broke with Terry.  Terry said, 'On the sofa
boys, we're going to take your arses.  A prize for the the first couple to
spurt.'
  Ramon grinned as he squatted over his lover's tool, it was easier for him
to slip it into himself than for Tim, who had not pole danced before.  He
grasped the back of the sofa and bent down to kiss his lover.  Soon Ramon
and Tim were bouncing on Terry and Peter, their cocks and balls flapping
and slapping on the bellies beneath them.  Terry flushed hot and his orgasm
boiled up inexorably in him, and he shouted out as he ejaculated deep in
Ramon.  Peter followed not long afterwards with a whoop that must have been
heard on the street outside.
  They lay together on the floor in a tangle of slender limbs.  They were
talking and laughing a long while.  Terry couldn't ever remember so good
and so fulfilling a session, and although he knew what Andy would say if he
ever heard of it, it felt good to lie there with Peter cuddled up to one
side of him, kissing his mouth and holding him round his naked waist and
stroking his cock.  Ramon on the other side, was laughing and joking with
Tim, both playing with each other's members.  There was no guilt, no shame
and no jealousy, and when Ramon mounted Tim, their lovers assisted the
coupling with hands and mouths.  It was not until well into the small hours
that they were ready for bed.  Terry led Ramon to his room, while Peter
took his Tim to Mark's.  They slept till Peter's cell phone insistently
woke the two younger boys, with Andy's demand as to where the hell he was.
  Terry sat out with Peter on the balcony with their morning coffees.  Tim
and Ramon were inside laughing and sniggering over something.  Soon the
sniggering became grunting.  They hadn't dressed, so some unfinished
business from the previous night must have been on the agenda.
  'Are we good, Pete?' Terry had to ask.
  'Oh, yeah, Terry.  We're good.  And you called me "sweet babe".'
  'S cos I love you, sweet babe.'
  'I know, Terry.  That's the great thing about you.  You genuinely love
the boys you're with, and you love us all the same.'
  'Except Ramon, of course.  He's my special babe.  It surprised me that he
wanted to get it on with another couple ... though you two really are so
very beautiful.  But promise me this.  You won't ever do group sex with
people you can't be sure of, and I don't mean the health thing.  You know
what'll happen if your sex games get out to the media.'
  'I know.  That's why I agreed to Timmy babe's plan.  I might never get
another chance to watch and be watched with another couple.  But hell, who
says this has to be the last time we get together for sex?  Last night was
the best.  I wanna do it again ... and again.  I love you Terry, I always
have.  And will you please take my ass one day?  I dream about it.'
  Terry grinned at the thought.  They lay companionably out on the balcony,
the morning sun warming their naked skin.

Andy entered his Matt in his room up the hill just at that same moment,
with the same sun beating on his naked rear.  Matt moaned and clasped his
legs round his small lover's body, pushing up with his pelvis as Andy
thrust down.  Andy's prick was large for his size and Matt loved the
friction he could generate in his rectum.  They knew each other intimately,
so that Andy knew precisely how to gnaw on Matt's nipples to cause him to
arch in abandon under him.  They encouraged each other noisily and
colourfully, the way they had always done since they had first become
lovers.  Fortunately Andy's suite was large and the garden outside was
empty.
  Andy came with a long groaning shout, and he fell into Matt's arms.  They
lay together, Andy snuggling into the broad chest of his lover, who kissed
the fragrant hair of his golden head.
  'Take me now, my Matt.  Are you up to it?'
  'Always, my little blond satyr.  But can I use you for a workout?'
  Andy grinned impishly, 'You going to do what I think you are?  If so, the
answer is definitely yes.'
  Matt laughed.  His powerful young body had been improved and toned by
trainers and consultants.  He would never be an athlete like his younger
brother, but he was broad shouldered, and perfectly muscled in legs and
torso.  He stood next to the bed, and Andy stood up on it, his back to his
lover, who was lubricating his member liberally.  He squatted and directed
his buttocks towards Matt, who placed his large cock head at Andy's anus.
Andy took a deep breath and sank on to Matt as he pushed up.  With a gasp,
Matt penetrated him, scooped him under his thighs and straightened
effortlessly. Andy yelled as Matt's big cock surged up his rectum straight
to the top, and he struggled impaled like a butterfly on a pin, his legs
hanging down, his head back and his small toes splaying with ecstasy.
  'Oh my God.  This is being fucked.  You're going to do me standing here
like this ...  you're so strong, my Matt.'  And Matt held Andy steady in
mid air in front of him and began pumping up into him, holding the warm
back of the smaller man against him easily, despite Andy's squirming with
the surge of the very powerful thrusts beating up into him.  When Matt came
it was so strong that he nearly dropped his lover on the floor, but he held
steady with an effort.  Standing, legs apart and his chest heaving, he
lifted Andy right off his cock and put him gently down.  Andy turned and
hugged Matt, then fell to his knees and took him in his mouth, lovingly
cleaning the cock that had just been impaling him.  Matt squirmed as his
sensitive cock was lavishly licked and suckled.  They crawled back on to
the bed, completely satiated.
  After a while Andy raised himself on his elbows and speculated, 'I'll bet
Pete did something mad last night.  He was in a strange mood at the end of
the party and that Tim is not necessarily a steadying influence on him
... not like you on me, my Matt, or Ramon on Terry.'
  'Where is he?'
  'Down the hill at Terry's.'
  'Then he'll be fine.  Whatever lunacy he indulged in, Terry will mind his
back.'
  'When are you going to leave me, my Matt?'
  'Tomorrow, my lovely blond hobbit.  I'm flying to Tokyo for a photo
shoot, a couple of ads and a bizarre TV chat show.  Though how I'm going to
chat when I can't speak a word of the language I really don't know.'
  'It's amazing that everywhere I go I see you.  In downtown LA there's a
skyscraper with your moody face and perfect body painted right up the side.
What will the Japs do with you?  Is it true they've made you a hentai
character?  When we were kids, I couldn't go anywhere without seeing you in
my head ... but the whole world goes round seeing you now.  Did you see
that article that said you were the face of the twenty-first century?'
  'Bit mad, I thought, since there's an awful lot of the century left to
go, and I certainly will be dead and gone long before the end of it.
Anyway I think my backside is in fact the butt of the century.  I'm proud
of my bum.'  He looked back over his shoulder with a smug twinkle in his
dark eyes, and Andy took a moment to fondle and kiss the gorgeous brown
mounds.
  'A sizeable part of the human race would kill to do what I just did.
Isn't that amazing?  I take it as a tribute to my taste, myself.  You are
... something else.  Pete isn't entirely convinced you're human.'
  'Cheeky little sod.'
  'I told him how you scratch your bum, pick your nose and fart, but he
doesn't believe it really.'
  'That's an idea of what I can do on the Japanese chat show, farting is
the universal language, and isn't it sort of polite to fart in Japan?'
  'I'm not sure you got that right, Matt my love.'
  'What's the time?'
  'About ten, why?'
  'Last night was the broadcast of my documentary on British TV ... the
wedding drive it out of your head?'
  'Sorry.  Of course.  What's happening?'
  'My agent should have the first reviews from the British morning papers.
She said she'd e-mail them on.  Let's get my machine on line.'  Andy
watched from the bed as his stark naked lover busied himself with a modem.'
  'I'd love to insert myself on your laptop again.'
  'Oh very contemporary, Andy.'
  'You're bothered, aren't you.'
  'Yeah, a bit.  The series has got crap reviews so far.  The company went
for eye candy presenters and used researchers to write the scripts.  End
result: a series without any real authority and insight, school text book
stuff which dragged on for two hours.  I saw them, they were dreadful.
People felt patronised, and all the lush locations and expensive CGI
reconstructions couldn't make up for it.  Now, I was the eye candy
presenter for the seventeenth century ...'
  '... and the sweetest of them all too.'
  '... but I am also a professional historian and I used my agent's muscle
to take control of the script and refused researchers, but wrote it all
myself.  Well not quite all, I got Paulie to help with the arts and
literature side.  He was great and he earned a few grand too.'
  'Yay, Paulie!  Does he get credited?'
  'Oh yeah.  But it's all on me now if it's as dreadful as the rest of
them.'
  'But you've seen the previews, haven't you?'
  'True. I thought it was great and the producer thought it was fantastic.
But media types have useless judgement and the public have their own ideas
as to what amuses and informs them, bless them.'
  'Hup ... here we go, it's downloading.  Oh ...  oh my!  Heavens!  Good
grief!'
  Andy was up and behind his Matt trying to pick up something from the
scrolling screen.  He held his lover's warm shoulders and kissed his raven
hair.  'OK Matt, give me the highlights.'
  Matt turned and grinned, 'You're looking at the Naked Historian
... figuratively and literally.  The celebrity chef of TV History.  A
revelation.  How TV history should be ... passionate, humorous, inspired,
the finest historical documentary since the 1970s,' he gave a huge laugh,
'... and those were just the lukewarm ones.'  Matt leapt up grabbed his
Andy round the waist and danced round the room, holding him off the ground.
He threw Andy on the bed '...  I need sex, give me sex!  Now!'
  'You bet!  Top or bottom?'
  'What do you think?'  Andy laughed and raised his legs to his chest.