by Rafael Henry
Anyway, we're two weeks into the holiday, or rather my holiday, and some holiday this is turning out to be. Only joking.
This afternoon Ev came back later than usual in a jolly mood. I was busy writing this, and wondering if something significant had happened at his class today. It had. Incidentally, most of this account I write after the event, but occasionally I use speech which of course, for effect, puts whatever it is into the present. I love manipulating words. I think they are powerful and evocative, but I'm not suggesting mine are. That would be too arrogant for words…..even my words.
'What's up with you Ev?'
Excuse the spelling but you'll get the gist.
'Yes there is. What's happened? You'd better tell me Ev.'
He lay on his bed, on his side. I was in the only chair in the room….a pale blue painted wicker one with sides, and the mini laptop resting on my upper thighs.
'I've been to the beach.'
'Have you. What about Marcel. Is he still being an arse?'
'Is he still a problem………Marcel…..is he still being bad?'
Ahah! The vast majority of kids can't stand bullies, but the vast majority lack the courage or the skills to confront them. To sort a bully out often requires the sort of tactics that he uses himself, which can be risky and against the nature of the victim. In which case, an older more powerful person can sometimes succeed where the others cannot.
We did meet Bale, the older student, that afternoon and he agreed to walk with us for a while. He struck me as a good guy. I explained to him what, as I understood it, was the situation with Marcel, and that the school was basically not going to sort things out. Bale didn't say much, and when we left him to get the bus home, I wasn't hopeful.
I should have had more faith in the better side of human nature. Apparently Bale had taken Marcel aside the next morning for a 'chat'. It transpires that Marcel doesn't like the water. He would never go to the beach with the others after classes and change into bathing kit or anything. He insisted that he stay just in his usual clothes when the others got into their swimming briefs, or shorts.
The students favoured beach is immediately east of what was the West Pier, now all but disappeared after the fire of years ago. To the right of that beach is a large concrete jetty, or groyne as we call them here, which in calm weather is great to dive off. In a nutshell, Bale told Marcel that if he persisted in his unkindness to Evert, or anyone else for that matter, he would march him down to the end of the groyne and chuck him off the end of it, fully clothed. Bale is two years older than Marcel and quite a big lad. Marcel didn't take to this idea, and like so many bullies, didn't fancy taking Bale on. Result!
I'm going to seek out Bale and thank him on behalf of all of us, not to mention Evert himself. Twenty fours hours later, Evert is a different person.
In a weird way, I'm slightly put out. Why, because a black cloud has been lifted from your friend's life? Of course not. No, I think it's because he's not going to be around so much. That leaves me slightly bereft.
I'm pleased for Ev, but I rather burnt my boats with the pals I had here ie Jem and his girlfriend Elly. You might remember them from my last diary. Likewise Bryn, whom I haven't heard from in ages. I know he's busy with preparation for his first teaching job which is understandable, especially as the job is at my school.
We went to church last Sunday morning. Mother is a member and I always go with her just to keep her happy really, and not for any other particular reason, apart from one. Evert said he wanted to come with us. The church is just a few doors up the road so we didn't leave until ten to eleven. It's all a bit evangelical for my taste…..a bit 'happy clappy' as my mother calls it rather unkindly….you know……guitars and stuff, and corny songs sung by a long haired teenage girl, plus guitar of course. They still have the choir thank goodness…..and a certain person singing in it.
Ev asked me what he should wear so I put together his outfit. He looked great. He wore a his smart pair of very French looking light grey cotton shorts which stopped a few centimetres above the knee and with proper pockets, a white polo shirt neatly ironed, a pair of my old long school socks I used to wear when I was in short trousers, and my school jumper around his shoulders. What with his recently trimmed hair, again in the French boy's style, slightly bowlish, shiny from the morning shower and hair wash, he really looked the part.
'Do I look ok Jon?' he said smiling, knowing full well he looked fantastic.
I looked at him, nodding……
'Umm, I think you'll do…just about.'
'Thanks Jon. What are you going to wear……or are you going like that?'
I was still just in my underpants.
Isn't that sweet? Evert is showing us his sense of humour, proving that the dear boy actually has one. We now have an officially improved boy on our hands. I want to see the real Evert.
My 'holiday' wardrobe is not as extensive as Evert's sadly, so it looks like the old standby…….long grey trousers, white shirt and school blazer in lieu of my jumper which I had lent to Ev. Slightly formal, but it'll have to do regrettably as it doesn't seem right to be putting school stuff on in the middle of the summer holiday. Oh well, needs must I suppose.
The service was predictably tedious, apart from a sung anthem which was quite nice. I found myself looking forward to another evensong at the Cathedral. That time with David must have impressed me more than I thought. All that reminded of Cosmo and the boat trip. Happy days eh?
The choir numbers were at the lower limit of viability due to holidays I would imagine, but they still sounded ok, but hardly up to cathedral standard, and no reason why they should be without their massive resources. The Philips boy did his best, being the one boy treble amongst four older girls. He still looks interesting….a slightly stockier version of David in some ways, which is a bit of a slight on David who is the nearest thing to a Greek boygod you'll see this side of Athens.
My mother always stays for the coffee thing after the service, not because she particularly likes all the people there, but because her absence would be noticed and talked about. I personally hate it, and just stand around answering the occasional question as briefly as possible without actually being rude, from some busy body woman who feels she should ask me something. The Philips boy has never spoken to me……until today. Oh yes, he actually came over to talk to me and Evert.
'Are you the student that's staying with Jon?' he says confidently. Evert looked at him…..
'Do you like it here?'
'What's your name?'
I'm not going to write the whole thing down. At least I found one thing out…the Philips boy is called Alun. I wondered if he had any Welsh connections with a Christian name spelt that way. His parents, and sister too no doubt, I already know are very musical. Apparently, they are in some way related to the violinist, Yehudi Menuhin. I've actually heard of him. The final straw in the conversation was Alun's invitation to Evert to come to tea one day soon, no doubt so that Alun could practice his French. The invitation I don't think, includes me. Bloody cheek. I think I'm going right off that Philips boy…..clever bugger……a handsome bugger too. Shit!
We've had some seriously crap weather these last few days, but this afternoon it's come out warm and sunny. Being a Sunday, it's a family day for Ev, so I suggested we walk to the seafront this afternoon, but after I've sorted out my trunk which has sat there in the corner of the bedroom for the past week unopened. All I have to do is put the stuff away in the cupboard along with Evert's stuff, if I can find room that is.
It's all clean clothes of course. I can't use the wardrobe in my own room so my mother says, in case we get a late notice student. It sometimes happens if one falls out with the host family or for whatever reason. It could be any number of things. In the end, Ev and I agree to save space and make one pile of the various items regardless of who owns them, so his tee shirts are mixed up with mine, as are socks and pants and so on. There's not that much difference in our size and shape so it might make for the occasional exchange peut etre?
'Do you think we will go swimming later?' Ev quietly enquires…..
'It's not that warm Ev. I don't fancy it much, but we could go in our trunks if you want……wear them under our shorts.'
I have a small rucksack that I keep for beach trips mainly. I can get a water bottle in it plus towel, sandwich and whatever. I can get Ev's stuff in there too at a pinch. That means that only one of us is encumbered, and we can take turns. I have two pairs of navy speedos which are mandatory for all the boys at school which keeps everything neat and tidy, so to speak, a new pair and a spare older pair. Ev fancied wearing the older ones which he tried on, and liked. Being slightly narrower than me, they fitted nicely, which put another way would be 'just about'. I wasn't too sure about it knowing what I know about the Hove seafront and who wanders around in that area hoping to pick up boys, particularly boys of a certain age…..ie our age, for a bit of naughtiness somewhere or other. Anyway, they're under our shorts so it won't matter. Talking of which, I borrowed a pair of his. In France apparently, boys' shorts are different to men's on the whole….a bit shorter and simpler……as opposed to those ghastly 'cargo' type. In my view, the French are way ahead of us in terms of style. Ev has really nice clothes….really simple and stylish, including six pairs of great shorts.
We had a fun half hour swapping clothes just before we left for the beach, and Ev has taken a fancy to my underwear. Although his are basically the same style as mine, they are on the slightly heavier side shall we say. I think his mother was perhaps a little over-cautious when she sent him here with that lot. No matter, I've got tons because that's one item they insist you have lots of so he can wear some of mine if he wants……and they'll be less visible under his shorts……still visible to the trained eye of course, but less so. Anyway, too much information maybe?
I've purloined an orange pair of shorts from Ev, exactly the same style as his green ones. I've got quite brown legs now, in fact I'm like that all over apart from an alarmingly white middle bit. I noticed this morning that a few freckles have appeared so it's definitely a case of taking my floppy white sunhat. It's supposed to be twenty six degrees today which is great as it's been chilly of late. We decided to be 'brothers' so we're both in plain white tee shirts. Just before we left, Evert said he wanted to look at my freckles. We stood in the middle of the room facing each other……
'Can I touch them Jon?'
'Yea, go on.'
With his mouth open and steel wire visible on his teeth, I could feel his breath on my face and the tips of his fingers as he touches the sensitive skin either side of my nose.
'Can you feel anything?'
'No…….just you…that's all.'
I think what I said must have touched a nerve because he instantly took his hand away, and looked down. I knew I needed to say something quickly……
'How are you on a bike Evert?'
Relieved, he looked up and smiled…….
'Ok thanks. Have you got one?'
I've got two….a fairly new one which my godmother bought me last Christmas, and my cousin's one that he left here when the family went to live in South Africa a few years ago. Quite a few families were returning to Britain because of the uncertainty in that country, but they decided to go the other way despite that. Brave people. My uncle, a doctor, had the call to go. He had some time before become a committed Christian.
I don't think there are many French kids that don't ride a bike, and Ev look very confident on his. We took the most direct route to the sea and I locked the two bikes together to a pole near the King Alfred centre on Hove seafront. We strolled over to the blue/green heavy railings on the edge of the promenade overlooking the pebble beach below, and leant on them to survey the scene. All the beaches to the left and right of us were busy, and the one directly in front of us.
There were several families on 'our' beach, sitting on large towels to lessen the discomfort of those painful pebbles, and some with their backs against the sea wall. The tide was high which concentrated the population into a confined space. It's a scene that I've grown up with and I love it. A mother and her two children were making their way along the beach from the stone stairway that are always built at either end. They were carrying all the necessary kit for the afternoon…….an inflated shark in blue and white plastic, a rug to sit on, and a couple of wide shopping baskets full of the essentials of beach life no doubt. They were locals. You can tell. Occasional visitors hobble on the pebbles in their bare feet, but locals have feet that are acclimatized, and they can walk relatively painlessly. Mum sat herself down immediately below us. The boy's sister, she looked about ten or eleven, helped her mother arrange things while her elder brother surveyed the beach holding the shark which looked like it was more than ready to take a bite out of someone's leg. Two minutes later the girl had joined her brother who was still standing holding the shark and staring at the figures playing in the water. Sister was ready for the water having slipped out of the little patterned shorts she wore over her swimsuit. Brother obviously hadn't prepared as well as his sister for the beach. Mum helped him with the towel around his middle as he inexpertly swapped his shorts for his trunks. I looked sideways at Evert to see if he was taking any interest in the events taking place immediately below us. He was.
The school were selling frisbies last term for a pound each so I bought one. The name of the school and the crest thing was printed on it…all part of some marketing scheme that they think up these day. I took it out of the rucksack………
'Do you want to play Ev?'
He nodded. There are some good lawned areas towards the West pier that was, which is ideal frisby throwing country. We folded our shorts and tee shirts and carefully packed them in the rucksack. We played that game for fifteen minutes or so getting increasingly hotter and sweatier.
'Do you want to swim Ev?'
'Yes, but can we walk that way for a bit. That's the beach we go to.'
We didn't bother putting our shorts back on. I think we must have looked like twins as we strolled along the prom towards the remains of the West Pier, that was. As I've mentioned, that lovely old structure was destroyed by fire some years ago and little remains of it now.
Of course I've done this many times before, walking the prom just in brief swimming trunks, and always on my own. It's slightly different when it's the two of you, because one is less approachable in my view. Every fifty yards or so we'd stop to have a look over the railings to see what was happening on that particular beach. Hove is definitely more select. Hordes of people who get off the train from London head straight down to the beach adjacent to the Palace Pier, the other later and hitherto undamaged pier in Brighton, but we are still a good way from that area….more or less a mile I think.
I'm wearing reflective sun glasses which allows me to look at people for a few seconds longer than I otherwise could without attracting their unwanted attention. All I can say is that it's a good job I'm with Evert. He looks incredibly cute in his pale blue sunhat and nicely tanned slim figure. He just about gets away with those speedos that are rather straining to contain his gluteal muscles. I'm sure he's not really aware, but I am. Every time we stop, I immediately look back to see if anyone has been following us, and thus far I can't see any evidence. I realise I shouldn't be doing this, but it is rather fun.
We reached the beach that the Language School students use about two hundred metres to the west of the pier and there was no one there that Evert knew.
'Shall we go back to the other beach Ev?'
'Yes, ok. Can we swim then?'
Good idea. We made our usual stops every so often, and I did my usual look around. Nothing. At the next stop, a man walked just past and leant over the railings, just like we were, about two metres away from us. I was nearest, and I turned my head to look at him. He turned to look at me and then turned away again. I looked away, and then back again. He was still looking at us. I smiled and looked back towards the beach……..the tide was going out noticeably now. Evert was still unaware. The man was well dressed in shorts and tee shirt, probably in his very early twenties, and had a nice face…….actually my first impression was just that…..he was rather handsome. I had a massive butterfly attack in my tummy as I tried to concentrate on the view of the sea in front of me. I told myself in no uncertain terms not to look in his direction again, but even then, I knew I probably would.
We walked past the man and on until our next stop. The man stopped again just past us. I couldn't resist it, and looked at him for a second or two, but this time I didn't smile. We passed him again and didn't stop until we reached the beach from where we started. The same family were still there, the two children obviously had had their swim and were lying out on towels to the side of their mum. There was a space next to them where some other people must have left.
We walked to the steps that take us down to the beach and we stood in the vacant space. The pebbles felt hot. The man had stopped again, directly above us. I looked up and caught his eye. He smiled at me. I looked down again quickly, taking the rucksack off my back and placing it a couple of metres away from the boy who was lying on his tummy with his head resting on his folded arms, looking at us, hair tangled and wet. Drops of seawater were glistening on his lower back and his shoulders.
Evert swims nicely. The sea was almost a flat calm which is unusual, believe me, on the south coast of England. Partly because of the calm conditions, the sea didn't have that intense chill that numbs your legs, as you summon the courage to immerse yourself in one brave leap forwards. Those first agonizing moments soon turn to satisfaction that you did have the courage and now you can roll onto your back and enjoy the buoyancy that the salt water gives you. It wasn't so much of a swim as a cooling off. The afternoon sun reflected off the water lit our faces….lips pale against the brown of our cheeks and forehead. Out of our depth now, we tread water, arms resting outstretched on the surface moving like oars gently back and forth…..
'It's nice isn't it Ev?'
Evert looked back at me smiling. His face looks full of feeling right now…..like he's ok with the world. He looks happy and I'm glad. That's my job as I see it…to make sure our boy is happy.
I can see his legs through the clear water working froglike to keep his shoulders at surface level, or just above. I think about how he looks. Suddenly he's aware, and begins to swim in a small circle, and then back again to face me.
'Can you float Ev?'
'Go on then.'
He stretches out, pushing himself backwards with a kick of his legs, arms outstretched……
'I'm sinking Jon……help!'
Floating, even in seawater, is not that simple. I can do it, just, but not for long. After ten seconds or so, the middle part of you slowly goes lower until you're forced to get vertical and tread water once more. But…with a little support, you can lie out in the warm sun for ages. It is the first moment of contact……..skin to skin……palms of the hands to soft tissue…….I am the support……he is the supported. The trick is get your body completely flat in the water…no dip in the middle. So it's the middle of the body that has to be supported, and pushed upwards gently. Can you see what I'm saying?
Back up the beach now, I extracted the one towel we had from the rucksack and gave it to Evert. I noticed a screwed up ball of paper lying on the pebbles next to my sandals. Evert was busy drying his hair. I picked up the ball of paper and flattened it out. It was a note written in biro.
'Ice cream? At kiosk now.'
I took the towel off Evert and dried myself after a fashion…gave it back to him and said….
'Stay here Ev. Don't move ok? I've just seen someone I know up on the prom. I'll be back in a few minutes? Don't move from here! Promise?'
Ev nodded and sat himself down on the damp towel.
That was true. I do know him……rather well as it happens.
There's a sort of hexagonal wooden hut thing at the back of the prom right next to the grassy area we played in. We call it a kiosk for some reason. Arranged around the front of it are loads of metal folding chairs painted dark green, and a few tables. I recognized him immediately and went and sat down on the vacant chair opposite his. I smiled…and he returned my gesture.
'So…….what flavour is your favourite then?'
'Oh….I like them all really. Any nice flavour is fine.'
I gave him another smile, and looked down into my lap, mouth tightly closed to suppress a broader smile.
'Oh, that's quite unusual. You must be a very unusual boy then?'
'Oh, I am.'
'That's very interesting. And who is your friend then?'
'He's a French student. He's staying with us for the summer. His name is…..well, never mind what his name is, but he's very nice actually and he speaks excellent English.'
'Better than your French?'
'And is he behaving himself……doing all the right things? I know some of the students can be a problem when they get away from their homes. They can get very naughty.'
'Well, this one is behaving impeccably as it happens.'
'Oh dear. Perhaps he'll change for the better do you think?'
'I doubt it. He might though. He's a bit shy and……..well, you know. We're paid to look after him aren't we.'
'You were looking after him nicely out there….helping him to float and all that…..and yes, I could see. What a helpful boy you are. So, are you as helpful in your bedroom then?'
'No, I'm sharing with him in the front bedroom.'
'Oh, even worse then. Poor you. How's David? Are you still friends?'
'Yes we are, or we were at the end of term. He's gone off to Spain for a month, but we had an agreement.'
'Really. What was that if you don't mind my asking?'
'We wouldn't….not at all ……unless there were exceptional circumstances. If something cropped up very urgently, then we could, but we had to tell the other person.'
'Oh dear, that sounds a bit drastic. Have you heard from him?'
'Yes, I had a postcard.'
'And…..nothing, but he's only just got there when he sent the card.'
'So what about you then Bryn? Have you seen the Doc at all……since the boat trip?'
'And….that's my business thank you very much.'
'Meany. Do you ever think about me then?'
'Yes of course I do, but you know the situation…….and you shouldn't be wandering about the seafront like that . You don't know who's around…..especially with your twin brother. You'll get yourselves into some bother if walk about like that. So what do we call your friend then?'
'Oh, that's nice.'
'Ev is quite innocent I think. It wouldn't occur to him.'
'You don't know. He probably thinks the same of you…….silly little innocent English boy.'
We laughed. Maybe he's right. Bryn went on…….
'And what's this….'we wouldn't' do stuff then'? You'll end up having an accident if you go on much longer, assuming you've kept your side of the bargain? Have you?'
'And what about Evert then?'
'No, not as far as I can tell, but that's not to say he hasn't. I'm quite good at spotting the signs.'
Bryn looked at me, shaking his head slowly.
'Oh well. You'll look a bit silly when David comes back having had the time of his life won't you?'
'I don't care. That's up to him isn't it. Are you sure then?'
'Sure about what Jon?'
'That you can't? Who's going to know?'
'Well you and me for starters. Anyway, you know I can't, even if I wanted to.'
'And do you?'
'Oh Jon, you know the answer to that…..and you had better go back to your friend now, he'll be wondering where you've got to, or better still, get him up here. I can practice my French on him.'
'I didn't know you spoke French?'
'I did French and German at A level……as well as English.'
'Right. I'll go and get him then.'
I introduced Evert to Bryn who bought the ice creams. Not much was said whilst we enjoyed them. It felt very hot in the direct sunlight. I had a strawberry and they both had vanilla. Bryn is obviously pretty fluent because they rattled away in Ev's native tongue for quite a while. He made Ev laugh several times. Bryn is good with young people, which wasn't lost on the English department at Norwich. They quickly realised that they had something good there and snapped him up. Good for him, but not for me, at least in the short term. If I was told I had to spend the rest of my life with him, I would go for that, and I found myself feeling jealous as I was effectively out of the conversation that he and Ev were having. How weird is that? I caught the odd phrase but not the general gist of what they were saying. Bryn was asking loads of questions, and I heard my name mentioned at least twice. I was curious as you might imagine, so I suggested that when they had finished their conversation, perhaps Evert would like to go back to the beach and check our stuff was ok, stay there, and I would be down shortly to join him.
Evert stood up, placed his chair back neatly under the metal table and trotted off to do my bidding. I felt better after that. Bryn continues….
'I was only having a nice chat with him Jon…..as opposed to chatting up.'
Bryn looked at me disapprovingly. He knows me quite well. He'd noticed my disapproving expression no doubt.
'I know .'
'Well then…..silly boy. Anyway it was interesting. He likes you. Did you know?'
'Yes, I suppose so. Why? What did he say?'
'Well, let's just say that he likes you, ok, and he's very grateful that you got the problem sorted out at the school. He won't turn you away…..he wouldn't be offended. Why not? Anyway, what's he like?'
'What do you mean, what's he like?'
'You know….what's he like ? Don't tell me you don't know.'
I felt a rush of nerves in my tummy.
'Oh, that .'
'Yes, that .'
'Not as far down that road as me, but superior in another way.'
'Umm……yes, I had noticed.'
'Bastard. You shouldn't…….your too old. '
'Not for you apparently. Anyway, one has to look somewhere doesn't one?'
I suppose so.
Our friends next to us left the beach about four. Ev and I wanted a last swim, so we left Bryn to guard our kit, and to the book he was reading. He said he'd like to join us on the beach. It was a Patrick Gale novel……his latest apparently……'A place called Winter'. Bryn said he would lend it to me when he'd finished it. It looked like he almost had. On the way down to swim, I thought about Bryn's words…….'yes, I had noticed'. I had noticed too. It was when Ev had stood up to go back to the beach. I had no idea, but I'd rather put poor Ev on the spot. Anyway, he made it back to the beach unscathed. I rather think that Ev's body is quite responsive. That's to say, a certain part of his body. Mine does that too on occasions, usually when you don't want it to. Ev wasn't all the way as it were, but half way?
The tide was out as far as it goes, leaving an expanse of wet sand below the shelving pebbles. Where the pebbles end and the sand begins, small pools of shallow warm water remain trapped in the hollows, which are lovely to paddle in. We didn't swim for long, having waded out to the limit of our depth. We stood facing back to the beach, faces lit almost orange in the lowering august sun reflected on the flat calm water.
'What did you think of Bryn then?'
'I heard my name mentioned. Why?'
'Yes……he asked me about you, that's all.'
'What did he ask you Ev?'
'He asked me if I liked being with you.'
'I said yes I did. I told him about Bale and Marcel. He said that you would always try to sort things out like that. He said that you had deep feelings but you don't like to show them. He said I shouldn't be afraid to thank you for what you did.
That was interesting, and gave me the opportunity to ask him something a bit more personal.
'Are you then…..afraid to show your feelings?'
'Yes, I suppose so. A bit maybe.'
'Oh. I thought the French were all touchy feely….lots of hugs and kisses?'
'We are, yes.'
A short pause.
'And Bryn said not to waste our feelings because they were precious….they might not come again.'
'Quite right, and there's no reason why you can't be French here in England is there? That's interesting don't you think….what he said? Shall we talk about that tonight Ev?'
'Yes, ok……if you want to.'
We couldn't ride our bikes home in wet trunks, so Bryn held the towel for me while I swapped wet speedos for shorts. I thought I'd remind him of what he could have had, or more to the point so to speak, what he could be having, but what with the 'walnut whip' effect of cold water on my body, I doubt if he would want to be bothered.
'Can you help Evert now please?'
'Sure. Is that ok Evert?'
It was. He held the towel for him, looking quite deliberately out to sea while Ev got out of his trunks and wriggled into his shorts, apart from just the occasional glance in a downwards direction. I knew he wouldn't be able to resist. Bryn walked us to our bikes, mercifully still there. You never know these days.
We didn't shower until bedtime. Ev went first and came out drying himself feeling perfectly comfortable with his nudity now, thank goodness. It's been a bit of a gradual process with him, which is understandable as he's never really been in a situation like this before…..not even at school. No such reticence from me though. I'm not sure exactly what his feelings are about many things, but I do hope he feels free to express them.
Last night he still didn't really open up. I'm sure he was close, but something still holds him back. Maybe I've misjudged him, and he's nothing to give. I don't know. What I do know is that this morning I've wet the bed. I have a vivid memory of a very sexy dream which must have involved rubbing myself against the mattress which in turn resulted in my having a fantastic orgasm. I woke up properly and felt this cold wet patch halfway down the bed. I knew straight away what it was. It's been three weeks since. There was nothing in my agreement with David about one of those things that we sometimes have. He's never had one, or hadn't when I last saw him so it wouldn't have occurred to him anyway. No matter…..as far as I'm concerned they don't count.
I pulled the covers right down the bed to survey the damage, which was fairly comprehensive. Judging by the ferocity of the experience, it wasn't surprising really. The patch was about ten centimetres at its widest going down to about five I suppose making an oval shape on the sheet which appeared oddly transparent when I put my hand underneath it to feel how far it had gone through. The blanket underneath was just damp. All I have to do is to let it dry out.
I made no attempt to hide my problem from Evert. He saw it….looked at me, and said nothing from embarrassment I suppose. It was still only half six. My messing about with the bedclothes had woken him.
'Are you ok Jon?'
'Yes thanks Ev….apart from having a wet bed.'
'I'm sorry Jon.'
'Why? Do you think I peed myself?'
'Yes. Didn't you?'
'No Ev I didn't. I've have one of those nice dreams. That's what happens. I take it you've never had one?'
'What nice dream?'
I tried a rough translation.
'A reve……an erotic reve Evert. Get it?'
'Ah…..un reve erotique?'
'Yes…one of those……only wet.'
'Humide…….un reve humide?'
Ev looked totally fascinated….not embarrassed or anything like that.
'Go on, you can touch it if you want. It won't hurt you. It's not wee….not urine.'
Ev repeats the words 'not urine'.
'That's right…….' pas urine' .
I didn't know the French word for sperm, but I do now. It's the same word but with an 'e' on the end……sperme. You live and learn. Ev looked slightly shocked at his first, presumably, sight of sperme that had appeared from someone other than himself. I suppose he imagined that everybody would be different or something.
I truly wasn't expecting him to say what he said….really….honestly I wasn't.
'Do you want to sleep in here Jon?'
Oh my goodness me! Oh lordy lordy! I could hardly believe what I'd just heard.
Two bodies in a three foot wide bed with a bit of a dip in the middle. Maybe it was his way of saying thank you, I don't know. In the end we were too tired to keep our bodies from touching. There just didn't seem any point. Why not? I don't think there was ever much doubt about the outcome. When my arm went over his shoulder, his came over mine immediately. It was like 'Simon says'.
I'd been downstairs for pee. After my 'accident' my penis felt tingly and hot….all a bit weird really. I think I've only had one of those things before this one. It was so unbelievably intense. I suspect that's it's because the process is so gradual. With one's hand, you have control, but with 'no hands' it must take ages, hence the super intense feeling when it finally happens. With 'hands on', I reckon I average less than two minutes…..if that, but then that's me. I remember Bryn being surprised at my indecent haste in such matters. That implies that Bryn and I had 'relations'. We never have……not really. That's not to say that I don't want to…I do. I find him incredibly sexy and he knows it. I accept the very good reasons why it can't happen. I have a theory that my 'accident' this morning was caused by meeting him randomly on Hove seafront yesterday. It brought it all back.
I'm sorry to go on about it, but it was such an incredible feeling!
I never walk about the house nude just in case my mother is about. I'm sure it wouldn't matter, but I just don't. Even peeing felt a bit odd, and the thing wouldn't quite go back to normal either. When I got back upstairs, Evert was all tucked up and I thought he'd changed his mind about me sharing with him. I walked into the gap between our beds and took off my tee shirt leaving me clad, still tingling, in my underpants. Evert opened the covers of his bed, and his smiling face was his invitation for me to join him. His upper body, like mine, was not covered, but by way of precaution probably, he was not entirely naked.
We must have been together an hour at least, and it was a very beautiful time shared between genuine friends. Of course we're not lovers, unlike David and I. I know that David and I are lovers in the best sense of the word. That means that we care for each other on a day to day basis and are sensitive to the other's needs……amongst other things. That might sound ridiculous given our age, but I can assure you that is the case. David is a little younger than me and has had his problems which I have helped him get over, hopefully. I have had mine too, not least my father doing his disappearing act, and having to live with the fallout down here in Hove. The authorities would, of course, disapprove mightily of our physical relationship, but frankly that's our business, and we keep that part very very private. We have to.
I'm hoping that the hour Evert and I have spent in close company this morning will happen again, but we'll have to see. He may have a reaction which will divide us for the rest of his stay here, but I hope not. I doubt very much if he's ever had another boy, or girl, in his bed before, so it's a bit of a new concept for him. We didn't take things very far, so if there was damage to be done……things done that are deeply regretted later……then it's very limited.
We touched with hands and felt our skin together, and it was good. Was there a sexual element? As far as I was concerned there was, and likewise for Evert. Boys can't hide it, unlike girls, but let's leave it at that. There was nothing sordid about it, or anything that the other didn't want…..no deadly sins committed.
David would have thoroughly approved if he were hovering over us on a flying visit from wherever he is in Spain, assuming he could spare the time. By now he's probably met someone. I can't imagine that he's not made friends with a local or another kid on holiday there. He said their villa was right on the beach, lucky boy that he is. Brighton isn't quite the same.
I've been busy writing two things……..this piece that Evert doesn't read, and a diary that he does see. We sit up in my bed before we turn our lights out and work on it together. Some of the diary I write when Ev isn't here….he's out somewhere most of the time…….and some I write with him if he's part of the story. I never mention him without him approving what I've written. Sometimes he types bits himself. Like me, he's quite quick on it. Last night I wrote about my 'accident', which also involved looking up on a teen health site why they happen, and what you could do to reduce the chances of having one. I knew all that stuff but Ev wasn't totally aware, at least he gave me that impression. Then he asked the question……
'Will I have one do you think?'
'Well, yes, probably……..when you start producing sperm, but you aren't yet are you?'
He didn't answer that question. Maybe he does?
The site didn't go into much detail, but it did suggest that if you masturbated from time to time, you were much less likely to have one of those dreams. The French verb to do that is more or less the same, as Ev pointed out, so he was obviously aware of what it was, but there was no way I was going to ask him if he practiced that particular art.
'It's when you get too full of sperm and there's no more room to store it in your body so it has to find a way out….that's when it happens according to this Ev. Would you mind if I made sure it didn't happen again?'
'How do you do that Jon?'
Oh dear. Surely he can't be that naïve?
A couple of minutes later, I realised that he's not quite that naïve.
'When?' Ev asks.
'Well not now Ev……..you know…..at night….in the dark so you don't know I am……or in the morning…..early, when you're still asleep maybe?'
Evert went silent on me as I typed a bit more of the diary. I think the whole scenario was taking time to sink in. He was obviously thinking about it.
'Why then Jon? Why when I'm asleep?'
'Because I don't want to offend or upset you Ev, that's why.'
'You won't Jon…..you would never upset me Jon. Can I be with you please Jon? I want to be.'
Since starting on this line of internet enquiry, the diary writing took a back seat. I'd rather reacted, physically, to the conversation Ev and I were having, but it was suppressed by the weight of the machine resting in my lap. I suggested we turn our light out, which meant Ev getting into his own bed. As he got out I saw he was as affected as I was. It's the first time I've seen him anything like that.
Because the light is out doesn't meant that our conversation stops. It's Monday, August the third…….ten o'clock at night and it's dark outside. The curtains in our bedroom are not that thick so there is a little street light that can still penetrate into our 'darkness'. In our darkness there is light, so to speak. I certainly hope so. In fact I think so too.
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