Date: Mon, 25 Apr 2016 15:31:22 -0400
From: Pete Bruno <farmboy7456@gmail.com>
Subject: Noblesse Oblige Chapter 10

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Noblesse Oblige
Book 2
An Indian Summer
Chapter 10
The Profession

The boys were talking excitedly on the train.  For Stephen and Christopher
the prospect of a holiday in London was still a great novelty.  The Plunger
affected a more blas? attitude but kept forgetting to hold himself in
reserve and with increasing frequency joined in their excited chatter.

While Martin instantly liked Christopher who was indeed very easy to like
with his boyish good looks and ready smile, he couldn't help but feel a
little twinge of jealousy when he thought of him and Stephen together for
their Wednesday night sessions, but this was more from the fact that he
would have liked to join them, as he felt secure in Stephen's affections.

Christopher acknowledged that Martin was also nice looking but didn't have
a pet for him, nor did he look up to him as he did Stephen.  However, he
was a little intimidated by Martin's elevated position in society and had
to stop himself calling him 'your lordship' until he relaxed into calling
him 'Poole' as The Plunger did.

Christopher did not quite know what to make of 'The Plunger', as he was now
used to hearing the Archibald Craigth addressed, and felt easier calling
this grand personage 'Archie'.  However he was just beginning to see the
light when The Plunger, who had been reading The Pickwick Papers' was
talking at length about obtaining his own coach and four and running a
stage service from Dorking up to London in competition with the Southern
Railways, giving a detailed description of the coaching cloak and hat he
would wear and the long bugle he would blow as they raced through
Leatherhead and Sutton to the astonishment of their residents.

The Plunger himself was always cautious of strangers and worked hard to
impress Christopher, partly because he was Stephen's friend and partly
because he too fell under his easy spell and partly, it had to be admitted,
because he was curious to see what Christopher looked like naked, but he
was a little depressed at his talk of actresses and their feminine charms.

In a second-class carriage on the same train Carlo and William were also
discussing their London trip.  William was still on a stick and so much of
the work would fall to Carlo.  Chilvers had made sure they could share a
room in Branksome House and that only they would attend Martin and Stephen
in their shared accommodation, including the bed-making duty for which they
would be paid extra as this was normally maids' work.  They were somewhat
daunted at the amount of luggage they had to handle, most of which belonged
to young Mr Craigth.

"I know some friendly pubs in the West End and a few rough ones down East,
Bill.  How'd you like to meet some sailors?  We could have a good time on
our evening off."

William had to admit he was excited by the thought.  He had been very much
alone at Croome and there was very little opportunity for such adventures
there of course; with Carlo he felt different.  He knew himself to be shy
and a little reserved and yet with Carlo he would do things he wouldn't
have dreamed of doing before; he knew that, and now Mr Chilvers knew it
too, he reflected.

Carlo and William were unpacking for Stephen and Martin, having been much
delayed by attending to The Plunger's needs first.  "Now that you are
valets and not footmen, William what should I call you?  I don't know your
last name," said Martin.

"It is Glassbotttom, your lordship and I'd just as soon be called Glass if
you don't mind."

"Very good, Glass.  And what about you Carlo, should I call you Sifridi
now? "

"I'd just as soon be called Carlo, your lordship, even as a gentleman's
valet, as I don't like my last name being widely known, sir, as a result of
a misunderstanding a while back."

"Very good then, Carlo," said Martin exchanging a look with Stephen who was
undressing.

"You don't seem to have any underwear, sir," said Carlo turning to
Stephen. "Was it forgotten to be packed?  I'm sorry if it was."

"No, I don't always wear it, Carlo; a man should be free," said Stephen as
he pulled off his shirt.

"Very good sir," said Carlo, making sure he got a good look at his new
charge, "I will follow your example and be free too."  William shot him a
look telling him not to be so bold, but Carlo just grinned.

"We will bring your early tea in at half-past seven, your lordship, and the
London papers," said William as he propelled Carlo from the room.

The boys walked to Piccadilly Circus, but it was so foggy that there was
little to see.  They had a few rounds of cards before turning in.  Martin
and Stephen had only been in bed about twenty minutes when there was a
knock at the door.  It was The Plunger who said that he was feeling very
'frisky' and wondered if he might join them for a bit.  He slid off his
dressing gown and Stephen inspected him closely; he had put on more muscle
during the term and his legs were much thicker.  He sniffed his ginger bush
and pronounced it 'lovely'.

Martin lifted the covers and The Plunger slid in.  Stephen wrestled him
over so he lay between them. "What about Mr Tennant?" asked The Plunger,
"would he like to do anything or is he too taken up with his actresses?"

"Well, I think he might like to masturbate with us," said Stephen, "but
nothing else.  He doesn't like chaps but he does enjoy pleasuring himself
with me alongside.  If I ask him, will you promise not to do anything he
doesn't want to?  Let him take the lead or let me.  Do you agree?"  Martin
and The Plunger nodded and Stephen put on a dressing gown and left the
room.

It was ten minutes before he returned and with him was a nervous looking
Christopher.  "The Plunger said he was feeling frisky, Christopher,"
explained Stephen, "and we wondered if you were next door feeling frisky
too; it is Wednesday after all.  Would you like to join us, we are just
going to pleasure our aching cocks and we could also discuss meeting some
chorus girls tomorrow night."  This seduction seemed to work and
Christopher came across to the bed.  "It's cold Chris, get under the covers
with us.  It's a big bed, but you'll have to take those pyjamas off if you
want to get in next to me."

Christopher obeyed and with the gas turned down to just a peep they boys
started to feel their cocks underneath the blankets.  "We'll have to use
false names tomorrow night if we meet any girls," said Archie.  "Is that
all right?"

"And it's best not to take too much money in case some light fingered
Johnny picks your pocket," advised Martin.  "We could take them to The Cafe
Royal or maybe somewhere less well-known," he added.

"I also told Chris we'd take him to the shop in Soho," said Stephen.

"That would be marvelous," said Chris, speaking for the first time.  "Is it
true you brought a ring for your cock, Archie?"

"I've got it on.  Here look."  Chris stopped stroking and clambered over
Stephen's large form to inspect the ginger cock with its silver jewellery.
The Plunger lifted his balls to show how it went. "Show me yours."

Chris exposed himself but there was no touching.  "I'd like a strap like
Stephen's," he said.

Martin, with a nod from Stephen, gave a highly edited account of Mr
Daventry's bronze weight and demonstrated on Stephen how it fitted.
Christopher was amazed.

Oil was produced and they proceeded to stroke in silence, each lost in his
own thoughts.  When Stephen noticed that Chris was getting close, he put a
friendly arm around him and whispered to go slower and make it last.  Chris
nodded.

"Are you getting close Plunger?" asked Martin.

"Yes" huffed The Plunger as he threw back the covers and increased his
pace, arching his back.

Martin matched him and Stephen rubbed Martin's chest and offered words of
encouragement.  He suddenly spilled, a shot hitting Stephen's cheek, which
caused Martin to laugh.

The Plunger was next, cupping his ginger balls as he shot up onto his ivory
chest.

Stephen now set about matters in earnest using both hands and requested
that his balls be tugged.  Martin grabbed one side and Christopher, who had
stopped stroking, stretched the other.  Stephen arched his back and spilt,
the first shot hitting Christopher on the eyebrow.

"I'm sorry Chris," said Stephen when he regained his composure.  "I bowled
a wrong 'un."

Christopher only laughed and used it to lubricate his own cock.

All three were now concentrating on Christopher and his fine big cock.  He
pleasured himself with greater intensity, Stephen again offering words of
encouragement and referring to the charms of actresses they would be no
doubt be meeting.  Christopher at last spent, if not to the cheers,
certainly to the admiration of the other three.

"See I can make myself last, Stephen.  Thank you chaps," he said with a
contented smile.

Stephen climbed out of the bed and walked over to the washstand, Martin
admiring his profile and his swinging privates, and returned with a towel.
They cleaned themselves up.  That was a cue for The Plunger and Christopher
to retire to their respective rooms.

"That was nice," said Martin.  You were so kind and considerate to him.  He
really did enjoy it, Stephen."  He kissed him on the cheek.

"Well I enjoyed it too, but I'm glad we're alone, Mala.  Do you want to do
anything else?"

"I'm not sure.  What did you have in mind, Derbs?"

Stephen showed him.



In the morning there was a soft knock at the door and it opened to reveal
Carlo carrying the tray and William- now Mr Glass-on his stick holding The
Times and The Morning Post.  The boys had not heard them enter and were
still asleep, presenting a very attractive picture, with Martin's golden
head resting on Stephen's chest as he lay on his back snoring, his loose,
silky, black curls down over his left eye.  The two servants just stood
there watching and turned to smile at each other.

Glass gave a professional butler's cough and limped over to draw the blinds
while Carlo made a rattling noise with the cups that stirred the sleepers.
Stephen sat up brightly and said good morning while Martin uncurled more
slowly.  Carlo went to set the tray down on Stephen but encountered the
same problem that Chilvers did of a morning.  He moved the tray across to
Martin who cried "Careful!" as he tried to set it down so then he moved it
back to Stephen's side again and grabbed Stephen's erection through the
blankets and moved it to the left side so the tray could settle safely.

"Draw the gentlemen their bath, Carlo," said Glass who had been watching.
Carlo departed.

"I'm very sorry, Mr Stephen, Carlo has been too long at sea sir, with the
free and easy ways of a company steward.  Mr Chilvers has warned him about
being bold, sir, and he is not so used to valeting for gentlemen, I'm
afraid."

"Mr Glass, I am not sure that I am a gentleman and I had never had anybody
lay out my clothes, fill my bath or bring my tea until twelve months ago,
so I don't blame Carlo," said Stephen.

Martin plucked up courage and said: "Glass, you and Carlo have no
objections to attending to us like this?  Bringing us our tea together for
example?"

"Oh no sir, we have- that is Carlo and I have- similar arrangement as to
our own lodgings, your lordship.  Mr Chilvers has seen to that and it would
be hardly my place to comment in any case sir.  It is a pleasure to serve
you sir which reminds me sir that the cook is in tears, sir."

"Why?" asked Martin.

"Well it seems that Mr Craigth, sir, especially wanted peach juice- from
white peaches-instead of his usual tea and there are none to be had in
December even in London."

"You might try Messers Harrods," said Martin.  "Telephone them."

"There is no telephone in this house, sir, but I will send Carlo around
this morning.  Please don't let my cousin take liberties, sir; I'm afraid
he is rather Italian."



The boys spent the day sightseeing, despite the cold, and had tea at Aunt
Maud's and the events of Christmas were reheated for they were still were
still good.  Sophia came in with Miss Foxton who was introduced to
Christopher.

"I do hope you can come down to Toynbee Hall, Lord Martin, I am on duty the
day after tomorrow if you are free." Martin promised to make time and asked
if they had tea in the afternoons in that part of London.  Miss Foxton just
smiled and said they would provide tea if he came.

Sophia said: "I am calling on Mrs Buckweet on Sunday, would you care to
come with me Mr Knight?"  Stephen reddened but said he would and so it was
arranged.

Naturally there were many balls and parties to be had and Aunt Maud laid
out a selection before the boys as if they were choosing a boarding house
in a seaside town.  They picked one on New Year's Eve that Aunt Maude said
she was sure she could get four invitations to and that would still give
them time to return to Croome for the New Year's hunt which would be on the
2nd this year so as not to hunt on the Sabbath- besides which, Mr Destrombe
was a keen horseman.  Archie had brought his pinks especially and was
looking forward to this ancient tradition.  Then they fell to discussing
their costumes for the ball, as it was a fancy dress affair.



Carlo and Glass had laid out the boys' evening clothes, including The
Plunger's cloak with its chartreuse lining and his silk opera hat.  The
others had opted to wear soft hats, but Martin changed his mind and wore
his new gibus, for the first time, to keep The Plunger company.  Carlo was
run off his feet.  He helped Stephen into his evening trousers and Stephen
noted that that the bulge running down Carlo's leg perhaps indicated that
he was no longer wearing drawers either and he was just assisting Martin
with his tie when Glass called him into The Plunger's room where the
complications were more than the crippled valet could cope with.

They dined up at The Langham Hotel as William said it had a good
restaurant.  In the cab Martin made sure that Christopher knew that
tonight's entertainments were down to him as they were all his guests. They
ordered champagne at The Plunger's insistence, although Stephen and
Christopher would have preferred beer, and they were quite jolly by the
time another cab took them to The Coliseum in St Martin's Lane where they
had booked the two-and-sixpenny seats in the red plush and gilded
gingerbread of the stalls. It was all wonderful, and not just Christopher
was entranced by the limelight and greasepaint.  There was Vesta Victoria
who sang a song of woe about her lodger and then revived (by popular
request it was stated) 'Daddy Wouldn't buy me a Bow Wow' which she
performed quit 'dead pan' holding a little kitten until her winsomeness had
the audience in tears of laughter.

Then there was someone called Little Tich who performed a comic song
wearing enormous shoes.  The whole audience erupted into song and swayed to
a new tune called I Do Like to be Beside the Seaside sung by Mr Mark
Sheridan, which the boys said would be certain to be a great hit as they
propped up the marble bar and ordered beer-except for Archie who had
whiskey.

The second half of the show was equally good, although the audience itself
was now noticeably livelier.  The boys too went out to the bar for more
drinks.  A very beautiful singer, Miss Constance Gray, had the most superb
figure and blonde hair and she sashayed up and down the stage and intoned
Every Little Movement has a Meaning of its Own.  She received wild
applause.  Next came Miss Evelyn Gray, her younger sister, and they sang a
duet about lost love.  Finally Miss Evelyn Gray had the spotlight to
herself and Christopher hushed the boys and sat with rapt attention, his
head held in his hands.  The beautiful young girl sat at her dressing table
tying blue ribbons in her long blonde ringlets and making small but
apparently necessary adjustments to her stockings as she sang in a sweet,
soft voice (apparently to her canary), that she too was merely a bird in a
gilded cage.  The audience with a mixture of tears and lust applauded and
cheered and Miss Gray, who suddenly gave a beautiful smile in the general
direction of the two-and-sixpenny seats, swept off the stage, bowing and
blowing kisses.

The boys looked at Christopher who appeared to have been struck with a
blunt instrument. "Isn't she beautiful?" he said with predictability and
they three exchanged glances and agreed fulsomely with Christopher that
indeed she was the most beautiful girl they had ever seen. "Stephen, will
you help me meet her?"

"Well, I believe taking her flowers to the stage door is the usual
procedure, isn't that right, Plunger?"

The Plunger had no idea but, as a man of the world, he said it was and that
she should be invited to supper with them at the Cafe Royal.  Martin had a
feeling that this was going to be an expensive evening.

The four young men in expensive evening clothes presented a very attractive
spectacle at the performers' entrance to the Coliseum.  Christopher had
obtained a costly bunch of hothouse flowers from a stall nearby, no doubt
positioned for this very purpose.  To their surprise they were shown in and
passing down a rather utilitarian corridor were halted at the Misses Gray's
dressing room.

Only Archie and Martin had adopted false names (Jeremy and James) while the
others kept theirs.  They admitted to the sisters' manager they were
schoolboys-honesty being the best policy-and Christopher produced a
photograph of Miss Evelyn that he hoped could be autographed.

The manager was a tall and thin young man with a neat moustache and was
quite nice looking really.  He sized the boys up and admitted them to the
room, which was surprisingly comfortable and warm.  The sisters were
already changed when Percy Forbes, the manager, made the
introductions. Christopher began by praising their performances-both their
performances he was careful to stress-although he only had eyes for Miss
Evelyn.  He went on to show his knowledge of their work and the songs they
sang.  "I wanted to see you when you were in Berwick-upon-Tweed but? er?
but my father wouldn't let me."  He blushed.

"Well your father has evidently changed his mind," said Miss Constance.

"Oh well?he doesn't actually?I came with my friends?I go to school with
Stephen," said Christopher, flustered.

"We come from Carlisle, Mr Tennant, and we are not always used to the fast
ways of London are we Constance?" said Miss Evelyn, looking at Christopher
as if she'd eat him up. "Fortunately we have Mr Forbes to help us.  He is
the best theatrical manager in the north of England, aren't you Percy?  But
he drives us hard.  We have very little free time."

"And you Mr Knight, surely you are too old for school?" said Miss
Constance.

"No, Miss Gray, I am at school with my friend."

"Have you any interest in the stage, Mr Knight?" asked Miss Evelyn. "I can
see you as a leading man and you, Jeremy, I can see you as a
swell-Burlington Bertie- don't you think, Constance?"  The Plunger didn't
know whether to be pleased at this career advice or not.

Stephen took a good look at the sisters.  Miss Evelyn was certainly very
pretty but her lips were thinner without their rouge and her skin may have
been sallow, but she wore a great deal of makeup and it was hard to tell.
Perhaps she was eighteen or twenty thought Stephen.  Miss Constance looked
older at close quarters, nearer thirty than twenty and her blond hair,
which was piled up elaborately, did not look quite right.  She too wore a
great deal of make-up, including on her breasts, which were plumped up
under her tight bodice and their exact texture was veiled by a layer of
tulle.

Mr Forbes was engaged with Martin, telling him about the life of a touring
performer and the vagaries of the accommodation for theatricals, especially
in the provinces.  Christopher had handed over the bouquet and had had his
photographed autographed and had been presented with one from Miss
Constance as well.  He was now looking desperately at Stephen who didn't
miss his cue.  "Would you, Miss Constance, Miss Evelyn and you Mr Forbes,
care to have supper with us?  We are going to the Cafe Royal."

And so they found themselves in two cabs heading for Regent Street.  Miss
Evelyn and Mr Forbes rode with Christopher while the other four rode in the
cab following, Miss Constance pressing her knee on Stephen's.

At the restaurant they were found a table and Martin was sure that Mr
Forbes heard him addressed as 'your lordship'.  Champagne was produced.

Stephen didn't see Mr Forster there, but on another table he thought a man
with a beard might be Mr George Bernard Shaw.  The Gray sisters were
engaged with the delighted Christopher, Miss Constance occasionally
addressing a remark to Stephen or putting a hand on his knee when words
failed.  The Plunger and Martin were making desultory conversation with Mr
Forbes and Martin was quite pleased to see Tsindis and asked him to join
their table and have a drink.

Tsindis did so and fell to talking to The Plunger who said he admired his
sketch of Stephen awfully and went on to relate the tragedy of the Sargent
portrait.  Tsindis, while not actually blaggarding the portraitist, let The
Plunger know that Sargent was by no means in the aesthetic vanguard and
that his work was now regarded very much as mere success d'estime.  He
asked the boy if he had seen the post-impressionists at the Grafton
Galleries, which The Plunger had to admit he hadn't (nor had he heard of
the movement).  Tsindis then begged The Plunger to come with him across the
room where he wanted to introduce him to a Mr Fry and two more up-to-dates
portraitists named Lavery and Orphen.  The Plunger's head was spinning from
the champagne and from the vortex of modern art, but he went to the
artists' table and was there deep in conversation for the rest of the
evening.

Food came and went and more champagne was consumed.  Mr Forbes was
explaining what devout girls the Misses Gray were and how it pained their
parish priest back in Carlisle when they went on the stage, but how the
sisters went to Mass once a week unless there were matinees and contributed
generously to the Catholic mission in the New Hebrides.  Indeed the sisters
were going to an early service the following day, as they were to travel
north to an engagement at the Empire Hartlepool.  Martin took this as a
hint that the evening was over, but Stephen read the situation more
subtly. "Could we escort the ladies back to their hotel, Mr Forbes?" he
said.

"They are staying with me Mr Knight in a theatrical hotel just off Russell
Square, and we'd be delighted if you gentlemen could come back for a
nightcap."  Martin paid the bill-a sickening nine pounds and fifteen
shillings-and went to retrieve The Plunger.  The Plunger, asked to be
excused because he was just hearing about the most marvellous person called
Lady Ottoline Morrell and Tsindis wanted to make a study of him in his
studio in preparation for a new portrait that he had just commissioned.

Christopher was very excited that they were going home with the ladies to
whom he hadn't stopped talking.  He had even begun to hold Miss Evelyn's
hand to emphasize a point he was making, although it was the sort of
profound declaration that did not quite make sense to the listeners but
would have been very familiar to empty champagne bottles had they ears.

The hotel was a little seedy but was possessed of a lift.  Miss Constance
touched Stephen's hand while Mr Forbes managed to place his on the groins
of both Stephen and Martin while telling the boy to take them to the fourth
floor.

In the suite of rooms the evidence of packing was all about them: open
Innovation trunks and scattered clothes.  Personal touches included some
photographs in silver frames, a small religious picture and a large family
Bible draped with rosaries.  More champagne was sent for and Martin began
to feel sick.  The Misses Gray and Christopher disappeared into a bedroom
where there must have been a piano for a tune was being picked out
accompanied by the ladies' voices.

Mr Forbes said: "Well gentlemen, your young friend seems to be having a
wonderful introduction to The Profession; Miss Constance and Miss Evelyn
appear to have taken a shine to him.  It is such a pity we leave
tomorrow. You know travelling is so exhausting, not to mention expensive,
and you gentlemen have kept the girls up very late tonight.  I can't have
the management complaining that they are yawning through their numbers can
I?  Shall we say five quid?  I think your friend will get his money's
worth. Tell you what, make it six quid and I'll suck you both.  Can't say
fairer than that and we'll have to fill in the time somehow.  You look to
be a big fellow down there Mr Knight what could use some attention and it
seems Miss Constance is booked up tonight."

Stephen was angry but not surprised and Martin looked as if he didn't want
anything to do with Mr Forbes but there was the problem of Christopher. The
music had ceased.

"I feel we have been taken advantage of, Mr Forbes," said Stephen. "You and
the ladies have has a very fine meal on us and Mr Tennant is clearly a
stage struck young man.  You can have your five quid but you will pay us
ten shillings if you want to watch us fuck and you will go and fetch us
some coffee first."

Forbes had never heard an offer like this before and was taken aback by its
cheek. "And what makes you think I'd want to watch?"

"Oh just the way you've been looking at my friend and touching me, but if
I'm mistaken you don't have to watch us at all and you'll save ten bob."

Forbes ran his tongue over his lips and had a ferrety look in his
eyes. "Deal," he said. The four pounds ten was handed over and he
disappeared from the room to get the coffee.

Stephen turned to Martin in urgency. "Is that all right, Mala?  I'm sorry I
didn't ask you first.  He just made me so angry.  We could just get Chris
and go."

"No, Derbs, I admire your plan.  I just don't want to be sucked by him but
I am feeling terribly randy-it must be the champagne-and I don't care if he
watches.  I may actually enjoy it, especially as five bob should be mine."



Stephen crossed the room and listened at the door of the bedroom where the
piano was.  He couldn't hear anything.  He opened the door to what was
another bedroom.  He then examined the room they were in, looking into the
trunks and opening the Bible on the table.  Just then Forbes came in with
two cups of coffee on a tray.  Stephen and Martin drank it in silence while
Forbes finished the champagne.

Stephen led the way to the empty bedroom and told Forbes to sit in the
chair while he turned on a small electric lamp.  He picked up Martin and
carried him to the bed.  They both knelt on the counterpane and undressed
each other, putting their clothes carefully on the nearby chest of drawers.
Forbes moved his chair slightly so he could get a better view.  He let out
a small groan as the boys took their trousers off; neither was wearing
drawers and Martin turned Stephen around so Forbes could see Stephen's
torso and groin.  He knelt behind Stephen and ran his hands all over his
chest, tweaking his brown nipples and biting his left ear lobe. Both boys
fixed their eyes on Forbes who was feeling himself through his trousers.

That was the last time they acknowledged him for Stephen pulled Martin
around and kissed him deeply and stroked his cock, letting his other hand
go right underneath him until he had reached his crack with his balls were
cradled in his elbow.  In this position he gently raised Martin from the
bed and rotated him, positioning his own head and shoulders on the pillows
and bed head while Martin uncurled his legs and lay completely prone
between Stephen's hairy thighs which were spread wide.  Martin raised his
head and took Stephen's cock in his mouth.  He stretched the long brown
foreskin with his teeth and then worked under it with the tip of his
tongue.  He slathered up and down the length of it until it was rock
hard. Stephen could reach down Martin's back and run a wetted finger up and
down the blonde crevice.  Martin moaned.

"Fuck that beautiful arse with your big cock!  Force it in!" cried Forbes.

"You paid to watch not comment.  Be quiet or we'll stop," warned Stephen.

Martin then organised a change of position so that his arse could receive
even more welcome attention and Stephen set to work with fury.  He took
some soap from the washstand and applied it to Martin and to his fingers,
which soon had the panting boy opened up and begging.  Stephen made sure
that Martin was comfortable with pillows and entered him slowly with his
large member, now also frothy with soap.  Martin groaned and a groan could
be heard, like an echo, from Forbes' corner.  Martin whimpered and there
were some tears that Stephen tenderly kissed away.  Finally he was deep
inside.  Martin smiled and kissed him.  Slowly he pulled out and then
pushed in.  With each thrust Martin made a noise, which was soon joined by
the brass bed that was also in distress.  When Martin seemed to be getting
uncomfortable, Stephen turned him over and continued to pound.  He
sometimes pulled right out to marvel at just how stretched Martin's hole
was.  He couldn't be sure if Forbes could see it too, but they had both
actually forgotten the procurer's presence in the room.

"Please spill in me, Derby!" cried Martin and Stephen tried just that
little bit harder and did so, the sweat pouring from his back and forehead.

When he had spent he took Martin's cock in his mouth and brought him to
hardness, loving the sensations of his nose in his blonde bush.  He then
used his hand lubricated with his own sweat and some Wright's soap to bring
his Mala off, causing him to spill all up his chest.  Stephen collapsed on
top of him.

A noise made them look up.  Forbes, with his trousers down around his
ankles, had spilled and was now beside them.  He used a finger to scoop up
some of Martin's seed, which he put to his own lips.

"That will cost you sixpence," said Martin.

"It's worth it," said Forbes. "I'll leave you to get dressed."

They joined Forbes in the other room.  There was no sign of Christopher
yet.  They sat in silence.  There was no more champagne.  All three must
have drifted off when Stephen was awakened by Christopher shaking
him. "Come on, let's go," he said.

"What time is it, Christopher?" asked Stephen.

"Why its?"

"I think you'll find you have left your watch in the room.  Try Miss
Evelyn's bag if you can't find it directly.

Martin was woken and Christopher returned with his timepiece and they
quietly left, Forbes being sound asleep.

There was silence in the cab on the way back to Piccadilly.  Finally Martin
spoke up and said, "Did you enjoy tonight, Chris?"

"I'll say!" was all he said, but his smile spoke volumes.

"I think I need to sleep with Mala tonight," said Stephen kindly as
Christopher was directed to his own door.  He nodded and went in.

When they were in bed, snuggled together, Martin said, "I hope The Plunger
is all right. Should we have stayed with him?"

"He's a big boy, Mala, and Tsindis is a friend of your brother's.  I wonder
if he's home yet?"

"It was a funny night wasn't it?  Those three were not as honest as our
Irish Guards.  At least Chris enjoyed it; fancy him having two sisters at
once."

"They weren't sisters, Mala, I saw their names written in the Bible; Miss
Evelyn is only fifteen and Miss Constance is her mother.  Forbes is her
brother."

"No!"

"Yes!  But I don't think Christopher needs to know that.  The world is a
pretty ugly place sometimes.  I love you, Mala."

"I love you too, Derbs.  And you owe me five shillings."



*****



The next day at breakfast Christopher was telling as much of his adventures
as he could in front of the servants.  Carlo's ears were flapping.  The
boys kept laughing and The Plunger couldn't understand what was so
funny. He tried to expand on the cubist theory but his friends' giggles
became greater until he stopped, looking very po-faced.

"What's so funny, you chaps?"

"It's you, Plunger," chortled Martin, "You've got paint all on the back of
your head.  Chrome yellow, I think."  The Plunger went to a mirror and
tried to look and feel with his hand.  He left the dining room with as much
dignity as he could muster.

They all had different things to do in the afternoon.  Martin was to go to
Toynbee Hall, Stephen with Sophia were to call on Mrs Buckweet and he also
had an invitation to call on Mrs Asquith who had some younger novelists in.
The Plunger was off to the Grafton Galleries with Tsindis to see the
post-impressionists and Christopher wanted to wander up Shaftesbury
Avenue. However first they had to do some shopping for their costumes and
visit Soho.

Stephen had been a little worried about how Christopher would cope with the
sights in that shop.  Certainly his eyes were on stalks and he kept
whispering to Stephen, "Do people actually like that?"  Stephen directed
his attention to the French postcards and a wide selection was made,
Stephen picking the ones that he thought he could most readily elaborate
into a libretto for their little Wednesday nights.  Martin and The Plunger
inspected the ball-stretching weights that poor Mr Daventry liked.  Stephen
was again very interested and insisted on trying one on behind the screen.
His scrotum was certainly pulled down low and he said it felt good and that
he thought he could take even more weight, but he found he couldn't walk
with it on and Martin was relieved when he handed the curious object back
to the proprietor who wiped it and put it back on the shelf.

Christopher wanted a leather cock strap like Stephen had but felt that the
one that also fitted around his balls did not suit and was quite pleased
with a simpler one, especially after Stephen praised how good it made his
manhood appear.  All the boys stocked up on lubricating oils and creams and
some pr?servatifs were purchased that fitted Christopher more snugly for
any 'further adventures' with ladies.

Martin did not exactly know how to get to Toynbee Hall and had never been
in this part of London.  He thought it inappropriate to arrive in a cab so
he took the underground to Aldgate and found that the building was just
around the corner.

Commercial Road did not look particularly grim but it certainly had a
variegated population, with foreigners, many of them costers and sailors,
outnumbering the locals.  However he did not turn down any of the side
streets, glimpses of which hinted at dreadful living conditions hidden
behind the facades of the shops.

He was warmly greeted by Miss Foxton, who seemed very busy with her work,
but still took time to give Martin a tour and explain the purposes of the
institution over a cup of the promised tea-just to show Martin that they
were not quite beyond the bounds of civilization.  Her friends were mainly
young men and women from the universities who had come to live for a period
here in the East End.  Much of the establishment was devoted to evening
classes for elementary education with Miss Foxton stressing that education
was the key to solving the twin problems of poverty and poor health.

In one room, women were being taught to operate sewing machines and in
another, young men were doing woodwork.  There was a large clubroom where,
Miss Foxton said, games were played and plays and musical entertainments
were put on. "We are in need of sporting equipment, Lord Martin," she said
frankly.

Martin tried to show that he was sympathetic with Miss Foxton's cause,
citing his projects for the improving of the amenity of the cottages on his
own estate.  "I also believe in the power of education for the lower
classes, Miss Foxton.  It was my brother who persuaded my late father to
have our village school become a 'central school', taking students on
beyond the age of 13 and my brother is now head of the local authority and
wants to create a higher elementary school on the estate or nearby, but his
ill health limits his ability to press for this.  I have seen the value in
education, not for myself, because I am not a particularly good student,
Miss Foxton, but for others."

"Perhaps for your friend, the beautiful Mr Knight?" said Miss Foxton with a
smile.

Martin was surprised but said, "Yes, I was thinking of Mr Knight; without
schooling, this country would be deprived of the abilities of someone like
Mr Knight and it grieves me."

"Do you not fear that the working people will overthrow the aristocracy,
Lord Martin?  Will the Labour Party bring about a socialist revolution and
will people like Mr Knight be governing England."

"I haven't thought that far ahead, I confess.  I cannot imagine a world
where workmen will give the orders to their masters or where wives and
daughters will rule their husbands, although I have heard it talked of, but
I do know that this country needs people like Mr Knight, even if they do
rise up from humble origins, and that we have too many people in high
office who are not so able.  You don't have to be a radical to believe
this, although my late father might disagree."

Miss Foxton laughed.  She then took Martin to a library where a Jewish boy
wearing a yarmulke was reading. "Lord Martin, may I introduce Isador
Rosen?"  The boy stood and shook Martin's hand.  He was tall and very thin
and took off his wire-framed spectacles and rubbed his eyes.  He had an
intelligent face -no, a beautiful face-with intense eyes that blinked as if
startled.  He had the stooped shambling gait of a scholar.  "Mr. Rosen has
been learning English with us for five years, isn't that so Izzy?  She
asked.

The boy nodded and blinked. "We spoke only Yiddish at home and now I have
completed elementary school.  I would like to go on, your lordship, and
study to be a doctor."  He showed Martin the copy of Gray's Anatomy he'd
been reading.  My father sells potatoes, sir, and I will probably end up
selling potatoes too," he said in a matter of fact voice.

"I know you see the great need, Lord Martin and I won't insult you by
pointing it out," said Miss Foxton as they walked arm in arm out the front
door.  She led the way through the bleak, wintry streets.  "There are so
many needs of course: we need clean water and ventilation in the dwellings
of these people; men need work, women need protection from violent
husbands.  The people are addicted to drink.  They are sick and
malnourished.  Women need to-don't be shocked Martin-women need to limit
the number of children they have."  Martin went red.

They arrived at Fashion Street where there were great tenement houses and
children were playing, but not joyously, in the gutters below a damp, grey
slice of heaven crisscrossed with washing lines.  There was some sort of
ruckus going on in a public house.  A rough looking woman was vomiting up
her gin. "Isador Rosen lives in this street.  A thousand pounds could be
invested and provide a scholarship for a boy, or even a boy and a girl, to
go on until the sixth form every year."

Martin nodded.  "I will speak to my brother, Miss Foxton.  I admire your
work tremendously.  You're not depressed?"

"Sometimes.  Izzy is a great joy, for example, but it is very hard to bear
the great certainty that he will never reach his potential and sometimes
the problems down here do seem insurmountable.  I shed a few tears, I may
tell you.  But the people can be very warm and great fun and they are not
all vicious; they're just poor.  And here we are back at the Underground.
Lord Martin.  Thank you for coming and I will see you again at your Aunt's
I should imagine."



*****



"?and so I think we should fund a scholarship at Toynbee Hall, Derby, what
do you think?"  Martin was in bed with Stephen who himself had had a
stimulating afternoon with the wife of the Prime Minister and her vivacious
daughter.  He had also met a tall, thin boy- terribly clever and also about
his own age- named Huxley.  He was suffering from poor eyesight but had
already written a novel but could not find a publisher for it.

Stephen thought it was a good idea and reflected on the immense difference
a scholarship had made to his education. "You know, Martin, you could find
a thousand pounds by selling off some pictures at Croome that you don't
want.  There's that terrible one of the lion tearing at the horse in the
dining room by Stubbs; that would fetch a pretty penny.  Would you and
William miss it?"

"No, I don't think so.  It is a gruesome thing to look at when carving the
joint.  I'll speak to William and maybe get Sachs to see if he can find a
buyer.  I won't sell any that we really like, but two or three won't be
missed and I think Miss Foxton could make better use of the money and we
won't have to touch our investments."

"You're saying 'our'' Mala."

"Yes, I think of Croome as ours, don't you?"

"Not really.  It's a difficult jump to make; I think I'm just happy with
you being mine."

"Thanks, Derbs." he said kissing him, "all I ever want is to be yours."

To be continued?

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would love to hear from you.

Just send them to farmboy5674@yahoo.com and please put NOB Nifty in the
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