Date: Thu, 24 Jan 2013 00:33:58 +0000
From: Joe Ferns <alohareaders@gmail.com>
Subject: Blind Faith 2

Blind Faith

Chapter 2:  Climbing Up.


Peter didn't know what to expect.  Joey had got his mobile number before
they parted company but after that nothing.  No calls.  No texts even.
Silence.

Peter didn't even think about calling Joey.  He wasn't sure but somehow it
didn't seem to be the thing to do.  In truth he hadn't the least idea what
was the thing to do.  So he did nothing and waited.  The worst of it was
that Peter could not get Joey out of his head.

The second night after they had met he went back to the funfair just in
case Joey might be there but after wandering around for half an hour
without a sighting, he gave up and just went home.  He didn't even think
about going on any of the rides.  This time it wasn't caution.  It was just
a lack of appetite.  A few years older and he would have known what was
going on inside him.

The fourth night after the pair had met, Peter was back again at the
funfair.  By this time he had reconciled himself to the fact that he would
not be seeing Joey again.  He went with Matt from school; that was the mate
who had thrown up last year on the zipper.

"Well ... will we?" Matt asked with a cockiness that seemed to be a challenge.

Peter wondered.  Was Matt assuming that the answer would be `no way, mate'
thus letting Matt off the hook with no loss of face?  Or had Matt been
practicing somehow?  Peter stared Matt down but made no reply.

"Well?"

That was when he saw him.  Joey.  He was over at the rifle range, rifle
raised to his eyes.  Clinging to his side was none other than the Mink
herself.  As if she sensed that someone was staring in their direction, she
turned and scanned the crowd.  She saw him.  She focused on him.  Her
expression tightened into a glare and she gave him the finger.  Her lips
moved.

"Fuck off, squirt," she mouthed silently.

Then Joey seemed to sense that something was going on.  He lowered the
rifle and turned.  The Mink tried to move around him, curl her body round
his as if to distract him.  But it was too late.  He had seen Peter.

"Yo!  Mate!  Get your ass over here!"

Peter felt a wild swooping in his heart.  There was that mix of elation and
trepidation that comes out of the unexpected.   It was like when the PE
teacher tells you to demonstrate a vault so that the rest of the boys can
see how to do it properly.

Matt looked from Joey to Peter and back again.

"You know them?" murmured Matt in an excited voice.  "Fucking hot."

Peter was thrown by this remark.  It was explicit.  It put into words
something that Peter himself had felt all along but something he had also
shelved in his mind, tucked away as an unacknowledged emotion.  In his head
he had got no further than thinking that he liked Joey, liked him a lot,
liked him as you might like an older brother.  Hero worship was closer to
what Peter admitted to himself, not a sexual attraction.  What made the
situation worse was that the moment Matt spoke Peter felt a jealousy flood
through him.  His brain started shouting `he's mine, hands off'.  He turned
to stare at Matt.

"Well, she is," protested Matt.  "Looks as if she bangs like a shit-house
door in a high wind."

Peter threw his head back and laughed.  It was not so much that he found
the remark funny, more that he was relieved.  He need fear no rival near
the throne.

"Let's go."

The two boys crossed the concourse.  The Mink scowled.  Joey had turned
back to complete his game.

"Bull's eye!" he exclaimed.  "Looks like I won you that cuddly bear after
all!"

Handing the furry Panda over to the Mink, he turned to the boys.

"Glad I ran into you, kiddo.  Don't know how but somehow I lost your cell
number.  Must have deleted it by mistake."

The Mink spluttered and then coughed.

"You okay, honey?"

"Sure.  Must be allergic to something."

She held the bear at arm's length but her eyes were focused on Peter.

"So great you're here `cause I got a challenge for you!  You up for it?
Saturday?"

"What challenge?"

"Ah-ha," corrected Joey.  "The right answer is `yes, mate'.

Peter grinned.

"Yes, mate.  I'm up for the challenge."

The arrangement was made.  Joey would meet Peter at the corner of Buchanan
and Main.  Two sharp.

"So.  You boys up for a rip on the zip?"

Before they could answer the Mink cut across the conversation.

"You said you was going to take me over to Malky's for a beer.  Remember?"

"Oh, shit.  Yeah.  So, you guys coming ..."

"Yeah, right.  Like Malky will let them in.  They are so way underage."

Joey hesitated.  Then he shrugged, adjusted his burgeoning cock in his
jeans and threw an arm over the Mink's shoulder.  They turned to head
off.  Without
looking back, Joey hurled some words in Peter's direction.

"Two.  Sharp."  A gabble of instructions followed.

The boys watched them go.

"Did you see that?" breathed Matt in an awed undertone.  "That fucking dong
he got?"

"Matt, you have been a total perv tonight."

"Me?  He was the one showing off!"

The pair of them went off in the direction of the zipper, laughing.



************************

It was Saturday.  It was two o'clock.  Peter was at the designated
corner.  Joey
had instructed him well when he had phoned the previous evening to go over
the arrangements.  Although he had no idea what lay in store, Peter had
gone to bed early, he'd had a good breakfast - which to be honest wasn't a
problem; he was thirteen and permanently hungry.  Joey had also told him to
wear clothes he felt really comfortable in.

"It ain't no fashion parade so stylish is out.  Just be easy and casual.  Oh,
and hey.  Not the tight pants.  Okay?  Not that you don't look hot in the
tight pants, by the way.  But you want to be loose about your nuts."

That was when Peter paused, his mind staring pointedly at the remembrance
of Joey's very prominent contours.  Joey, noticing the lengthy pause,
laughed.

"Yeah, okay, mate.  I won't be wearing my tighties either.  And as we're on
the subject, maybe skip your night-time wank."

Peter gave him a `what are you implying' gasp down the line.

"Don't kid me, boy.  We all do."

"But don't you get ... you know ... like enough off ... you know ..." stammered
Peter, wishing he had not embarked on the question.

"Don't let older guys fool you.  Nobody puts out enough, not even the Mink.
When you're my age you'll still need your fist."

`You can have the use of my fist anytime,' thought Peter but he said
nothing.



It was only a minute or so after two when Joey arrived.  He looked the boy
up and down before nodding his approval.  Throwing his arm across Peter's
shoulder he steered the boy off down the Main Street in the direction of
the river.

"So, where we going?  What's this big challenge you got lined for me this
time?"

"Nervous?" grinned Joey as he squeezed Peter's shoulder.

Peter immediately denied it.  In truth, he was excited and filled with
eager anticipation.  But much of that was because he was flattered by the
attention of the older boy and enjoyed being in his company.  At the same
time however there was a frisson of nerves that he tried to suppress.  It
wasn't only a nervousness about what the afternoon might bring but an
anxiety too about letting Joey down, not living up to expectation, getting
something wrong.

They headed down towards the river and crossed the piazza to the new sports
centre.  All the while Joey was chatting away; about the funfair and what
they had got up to, about how funny the Mink had looked with spew all over
her shoe, about how Matt seemed like a nice enough kid.  Peter half
listened as most of his brain was engaged in trying to second guess what
lay ahead.  Scuba diving?  Somersaults off the high board?  Or perhaps just
a calm game of shuttlecock?  God, how Peter wished he hadn't thought
shuttlecock.  It made his body react involuntarily.

They went into the centre.  Joey nodded at the lady at reception.  She
smiled and nodded back.  He turned left, through the double doors, through
the next lot of double doors and then, suddenly, turned right.  They were
there.

Climbzone.

"Hey Joe, my man!"

A tall black youth in a grey jogging suit sauntered over towards them.

"Hi Vern," returned Joey as he and Vern high-fived.

"Who's this?" asked Vern, nodding in Peter's direction.

"My protégé."

  Vern screwed up his face in puzzlement.  Peter, with no more
comprehension than Vern of what the word meant, tried to maintain a neutral
expression.  He half hoped the word meant `boyfriend' but at the same time
he wasn't sure he wanted Joey going around talking about it.  In addition
Vern's expression worried him.  Was it incomprehension or distaste?

"Peter, meet Vern.  Vern's at college with me.  And for your information,
Vernon, you ignoramus, Peter is my pupil.  I am the Master and I'm teaching
him the Manly arts."

There was no escaping that capital M's.  Peter felt a twitch in his loose
fitting boxers as the notion of Master conjured up the notion `slave' in
his mind.

"So.  You ready for this?"

For a second Peter thought that Joey was referring to their master / slave
relationship but luckily he did not respond at once and when he saw that
Joey was looking around the hall he did likewise.

It took a moment to register.  Then it hit him.  No escaping it really for
as soon as they entered the arena the wall shearing away from them, up and
up, was unmissable.

"Climbing?"

It wasn't really a question.

"Rock climbing.  I love rock climbing.  I'm going to take you up Glencoe
later but thought you maybe should get some practice in first.  Good idea,
don't you think?  Me and Vern are planning a boys' weekend away."

Peter only heard the invitation.  He did not notice the expression on
Vern's face which clearly said `we're taking a kid along?'

`He said he is going to take me up Glencoe.'  Now in Peter's head that
wasn't a five minute ride of the zipper.  Nor was it an hour long session
in a gym.  That was like going away together.  That was like being ...

"Best buds," he muttered to himself in disbelief.

But there was no time to ponder.  Joey was already harnessing up and
explaining to Peter where everything went, how everything fitted together.

"... and that's why I said loose gear.  Otherwise your nuts get real crushed."

Peter stared at Joey's crotch.  Even in loose pants the tightness of the
belts gave a prominence to Joey's endowment.

"Right?  Got that?  Now, you get yourself into your gear.  I'll watch, see
you do it right.  Nev will probably come across and do a check on you.  Since
you're a newbie."

Peter slowly and with meticulous attention to detail fitted himself into
the harness.  Every so often he glanced at Joey and he was delighted to see
a smile of satisfaction there.  He was doing fine.

"Okay, let me check."

Expertly Joey ran his hands here and there, checking a buckle, tugging at a
belt.  Once or twice his hand brushed over – did it linger or was that just
Peter's imagination? – Peter's crotch.  What he didn't imagine was the
smile that flickered across Joey's face as his palm encountered the thrust
of Peter's testicles, the swell of the young lad's cock.

And then they were off.  While Joey scaled the rock face, Peter watched in
admiration.  In places Joey ascended at speed while, at other times, he
paused as if to consider before moving up.  There was an easy fluidity in
the movement as if it was the most natural thing in the world.  Joey's
movement had the suppleness of the gymnast, the strength of a weightlifter,
and it all seemed to flow naturally as if it was done without thinking.

And then it was Peter's turn.  Anxiety swept over him but it was not
anxiety about the danger of the climb.  He had no thought of harness
breaking, foot slipping, grip failing.  His anxiety was only that he must
not let Joey down.   Nev, the supervisor, did come across and check over
Peter's harness.  He was thorough but not intimate.

"Joey will belay.  Don't worry.  He's been well trained."

"By me," Nev added with a grin.

Joey handed Peter the rope.  The boy approached the rock face.  He stood
and considered for a second before reaching out and heaving himself onto
the cliff.  He hung there for a moment trying not to let the others see the
quivering of his body.

"Aw, fuck it," he muttered softly.  "Here goes."  And he reached up for the
nearest grab.

Joey began to give Peter directions, advising him to keep the rope in
between his hands, to use the power from the feet and not only from the
fingers.  It all became easier; Joey knew well where all the gaps were and
kept Peter right. The rock was flat and bare on the way up but it had been
constructed to be difficult, not impossible, and at the same time to
simulate real conditions.

Progress was slow at times but Peter made it to the top, and the
accomplishment was rewarding. The adrenalin swept through him.  He was top
rope this time, which meant the rope was tense and secured to the bolts and
the hangers were spaced sufficiently so that one was never far from him.
When he needed to take a rest he had been able just to relax without
releasing the grip; if he made a mistake and let go, he would be safe as
the maximum falling distance was only 20 cm to the next double-draw.  He
did not know the technicality of that.  He just believed.

Perhaps the hardest moment came when it was the time to let go of the rock.
To descend.  He had to learn to trust his equipment, and his belayer too.
Peter knew it was safe and that he was in good hands, and still could not
help but slightly worry when he saw the double 8 knot tighten under his
weight.  Joey made him stop at different levels to collect the quick draws.
Once down, he congratulated Peter and collected the rope.

"You must get to trust the gear", Joey confirmed; "first timers normally
feel scared, but once you learn to trust the gear, you forget fear."

"And you."

Joey looked quizzically at him and Peter elaborated.  "Trust the equipment.
And you."

Joey tossed back his head and laughed.  The sound was deep and rang around
the open space.  Joey's face shone and his teeth sparkled brightly as they
caught the light.  Peter's heart swelled in that moment.  There was pride
in what he had achieved but overmastering that was a feeling that he could
not put into words.  It was as if his body was singing, every part of him
in tune like a symphony orchestra in full flight.



******************************************************

"Let's go eat.  You coming, Vern?"

The three of them made their way through to the cafeteria.  They jostled
their way along the servery like schoolboys, squabbled over which muffins
to buy and ended up piling muffins in a heap upon the tray.  Peter was no
longer overawed in the presence of the older boys but joined in the banter
with a camaraderie learned from the queue at the school tuck shop.

They made their way across to a table in a corner.  Peter clambered across
a bench and took a seat beside the wall.  Vern sat opposite while Joey
squashed himself in beside Pete as the boy had hoped he might do.  Their
thighs touched.  Neither moved and the continuing contact excited Peter.  They
chatted with animation about the climb and the older pair exchanged stories
of past experiences.

"And you never done any climbing before?" Vern asked suddenly looking at
Peter.

"Never," said Peter, shaking his head.  "First time."

"First time for everything," said Joey and as he spoke his knee seemed to
dig further into Peter's thigh.  Although unable to see that move, Vern
detected something in Joey's voice and looked at the pair opposite with a
curious expression.  Noticing it, Peter felt himself redden but Joey
grinned and laughed and, turning to face Peter, he raised his hand in the
air.  Peter responded and their palms smacked together with a crash.

Vern shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"I don't get you two," he said.

"What's not to get?" And saying that, Joey also shrugged.

Peter, unable to make much sense of what was going on, decided just to go
with the flow and reached for another muffin, a sticky-toffee one.

"Hey!  I had my eye on that!" protested Joey.

"And I was beginning to wonder what exactly you did have your eye on."

But neither Joey not Peter noticed Vern's remark as they were too busily
engaged in the war of the sticky-toffee muffin.