The Observer

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 5

Wednesday. I've been back in Rye for two days and I still have not come up with a plausible explanation as to how I've got to know James. Everything I think of sounds…..well, not quite right. I befriend a boy on a train. We meet again the next day, which happens to be my bedroom. We spend time together in my bed. Rules have been bent, shall we say, but not exactly broken. How does one get around the facts of the matter when confronting the boy's mother I ask you? Anyway, as of this moment, I don't have what I feel is the right answer. But……what happened next I could not possibly have foreseen.

I'm in my office which was our third bedroom before Amy shipped out, and was the girls' room. Mathew has always had the room along the corridor just before our room at the back which looks out over the marsh towards Rye Harbour. I'm catching up with work via the telephone, when I hear a knock at the front door. I go down sixteen stairs and open it. Standing there is a woman I vaguely recognize.

'Oh hi. I'm sorry to bother you, but you're Otta aren't you?'

'Yes I am. Is there a problem?'

'No, not at all. My name's Jane. I'm James's mother…….the boy you helped on the train…….when he wasn't very well?'

Not very well? Ok, I'll go along with the 'King James' version of the story, and…….my problem is joyfully solved, is it not, or at least part of it?

I invited Jane in, as one would of course. We went into the kitchen at the back, and she stood near the window admiring the view while I made tea. James is a nice looking boy, and looking at his mother, I can see why. She's simply but effectively dressed in jeans and a loose fitting white tee shirt on top. She has little in the breast department, and there's no evidence of her wearing anything under the shirt which appeals rather. I notice her nipples making an impression on the white fabric, but I'm careful not to look for too long. I feel my face warming, and I'm embarrassed suddenly. She has a silver chain on her left wrist. Her hair is quite short, and dark with a few paler streaks in it, dyed no doubt. James has similar colouring, but his 'streaks' of lighter brown are natural I'm pleased to say.

James had 'phoned his mother on Monday evening, something that the boys are allowed to do from the House telephone whenever there is a need apparently. James told his mother the story, or the parts he wanted her to know about. After hearing James's tale, Jane felt she had to come round to see me, as she was in the town anyway, just to say 'thank you'.

'It wasn't any sort of problem Jane. We have a son more or less that age, so I'm quite used to most eventualities.'

'Well, I'm very grateful. He said you both had a good chat on the train?'

'Yes. He spoke about his school……boarding and all that, which I'm familiar with, and about his interest in music. He must be a talented boy. This is his last year isn't it?'

'Yes, unfortunately. It's the local High School next September.'

'What, this one in the town?'


The conversation drifted on for a while, mainly about James. I was careful not to volunteer too much, and let her do the talking. I wanted to find a focus for our talk.

'Look. I know it's not my place to comment, but my impression is that coming from where he is now, to that particular school, is going to be difficult for him. I'm not sure that that quite tough environment would suit him. Isn't there an alternative?'

'No, not really. I'm on a low income, and he's only where he is because of his voice. Everything's paid for at the Priory.'

'Well I can't believe there isn't an alternative. Would you mind if I had a think about it?'

She was beginning to relax in my company, at least I had that impression. In the course of conversation, Amy's name came up, and needless to say, Jane had met her at an exercise class in the town, and was aware of our separation. It is a small world as they say, and particularly small in this neighbourhood. She said there were issues with her work. Playing professionally meant being away from time to time, and with James in a local day school meant that he would be on his own for large chunks of time. What happens to him when she's away? In short, she can't go away, which means even less income.

I was waiting for the next question.

'Do you have children Otta?'

I smiled.

'Yes, we have three…..two girls and Mathew. He's a boy.'

Jane laughed.


'Mathew is with me. The girls are with Amy. We see each other all the time. Mathew boards over in Canterbury. He's back at odd weekends, and the holidays of course. The girls go the grammar in Ashford. That's free, apart from the travelling….and the uniforms….and the trips……educational visits they call them. It's just a bit odd being here on my own. I assume that you are too?'

'Yes. Yes I am. You're not much of a catch when you have a child.'

That's true I suppose. A lot of men wouldn't want the extra baggage, to put it rather unkindly.

'So does James have friends in Winchelsea?'

'Not really. Being away most of the time isn't the best way to make friends is it?'

'No. Mathew has the same problem. Look, why don't we get the two of them together sometime? You never know, they might get on. Worth a try?'

Mathew. Yes, if I ask him nicely he'll accommodate James, at least in the short term. He's been brought up to be considerate to others. I consider it to be his duty towards a boy who needs a friend. He'll understand.

I took Jane to lunch at the George. We shared a bottle of wine, and by the time we'd finished it, I like to think we are friends. I like her, and I rather admire her son. We talked about him again at some length, and she asked me for my thoughts, which I gladly shared with her, being careful not to be too effusive. Volunteering information is generally not the best idea, until you're sure of a situation. There are several aspects of James I know about, and like, which I'm not going to mention. Neither did I mention what she should do with James' education. A while back, I gave a talk to the sixth form at the boys' grammar in Ashford. I'm going to make a phone call this afternoon.

I gleaned quite a bit of information from a Mr Rutherford at the school in Ashford. They take a very few boys at thirteen into Year Nine. Almost all of them join at eleven having passed the Eleven Plus academic selection examination. I think Jane needs to go and discuss James' situation with that school. They might be able to help.

Thursday morning. I took the bus to Winchelsea. I'd 'phoned Jane to check that she would be in and that she would see me. I got the impression she was quite keen. I floated the idea of the slight possibility of James going to Ashford in September. Her reaction was muted to say the least.

'It doesn't solve the problem of when I'm not here Otta.'

'Yes it does…….or could. The girls come home by train to Rye. James could come back with them. If he has something after school, he gets a later train. That's what the girls do.'

'And then what?'

I know the answer to that question and it's a no-brainer. He stays with me. I didn't say that. It's too soon.

'Let's worry about that later, but there is an answer. Do you want me to try to organize it? I can come with you if you want……to a meeting at the school?'

I phoned Mr Rutherford again when I got home. I put the case to him, emphasizing James' qualities. Selective schools like that one want good musicians. By all accounts, James is better than good. The conversation goes well, and all is fine…..Wednesday next week at ten in the morning. All arranged.

Friday. Mathew is home for the weekend. His end-of-year exams are all done, so they've all got an exeat for a couple of days. He's visibly grown, and his voice is changing perceptibly. I'm going to meet Jane tonight in Winchelsea, so it's make-myself-presentable time. We have one shower and it's ensuite to my bedroom. I want to use it, but Mathew beats me to it. I wait until he's finished with a towel around me, sitting on the edge of my bed. The shower stops and a minute later Mathew appears. He's naked. We've never had any hang-ups about nudity or boys things in any shape or form, and I didn't leave Mathew's sex education to the school nurse or the Biology Department. He knows all about the mechanics, and what everything is for, and what he can expect to happen, as and when, and most importantly of all, the matter of relationships.

'Crikey Mathew. Is that a pubic hair I can see?'

'Where Dad?'

'Where do you think Mathew?'

'Oh, that .'

'Yes, that.'

'Might be…….yes, probably.'

He's a funny boy. I think he's actually rather proud of his very sparse pubic hair. There's no doubt it, he's grown 'down there', and I'm rather a proud dad.

'Congratulations then.'

'Thank you Dad.' he says with a little bow of his head.

That's my boy.

Wednesday night. The meeting at the school in Ashford went well. Jane put her case well I thought. They will send test papers down to James' school to be sat under exam conditions. The finished papers will then be sent back to Kent to be assessed, and the result made known to Jane a.s.a.p. after that. It's my betting he'll pass easily. Then it's just a matter of seeing if he can be shoehorned into one of the year nine classes. Let's hope so. Privately, I'm chuffed at pulling this one off, if indeed I have done, but time will tell. The other development is that, had I asked her, I think I could have stayed at Jane's place last Saturday after dinner, and I'm talking about an overnight stay. I am slightly nervous about attempting sex with someone other than Amy. If it had come to that with Jane, I would imagine that she would have been more nervous than me, but I'm more or less decided that if she wants it, I will attempt to make love to her. In bed, if I think creatively, I get an erection quite quickly. If I think about sex with Jane? We'll see. I'm not quite sure what that makes me, but frankly, I don't care.

Mathew went back to Canterbury last Sunday afternoon. He left his bed in a state needless to say, despite his pathetic attempt to make it. Now Amy's not around, it's become my job. I found a couple of tissues under the pillow. I'm not looking for evidence you will understand, but if it's there, I'm going to notice. I couldn't resist giving both of them a fairly close inspection. One was obviously used but bone dry, the other very ragged and a tad soggy. I want to know, so I put it to my nose. I recognized the distinctive aroma. Another milestone reached.

I'm in Chichester for Sports Day at the Priory. When Jane mentioned it, I couldn't resist an event like that. I love those things. All those nice little prep schools have them, mainly for the parents' benefit, and they all follow the same format. I'm thinking 'Decline and Fall' here. Maybe the Priory's answer to Evelyn Waugh's Captain Grimes will shoot some unfortunate boy in the foot. A large tent on the field, lots of parents milling about chatting and paying little attention to the efforts of their boys who are doing their level best for Queen and Country, or whichever House they belong to….all summoned by loudspeaker to the start line, and off they go to the crack of the starting pistol. Jane asked me a couple of weeks ago if I would like to attend. Of course I said I would. What…….dozens of boys running around scantily clad in pristine white shorts, carefully ironed with sharp creases, with mysteries faintly revealed through the thin cotton material? Lovely stuff, and I wouldn't miss it for the world. I'm an observer of life, which includes fit young chaps showing their legs off, and more, in glorious afternoon sunlight. I know of very few pleasanter sights.

The event lived right up to my expectations. We didn't see James until he appeared at Spooner's Field, in small chattering groups. He looks the part in his kit, as alluring as ever in those very brief and semi-transparent shorts, elasticated waistband, and an undersized tee shirt with an inch or two of tummy showing, House colour pinned to his chest, and brimming with excitement as his hour of probable glory approaches. His performance [he was favourite for the mile race] did not disappoint. He broke the tape to finish first, to great cheering from a hundred piping voices. I didn't look at Jane as I placed my hand around her shoulder. It was a nice moment.

I had booked two rooms at my usual Vicars Row accommodation, one room for Jane and one for me. I'm tactfully taking nothing for granted. Last night, after a meal out, I had kissed Jane on the cheek as she let herself into her room, next to mine. After the Sports, she had told me that she had wanted to ask me in, but her courage had failed her at the last moment. I told her that tonight she ought to have another try.

'If I had asked you, would you have joined me?'

I smiled, and nodded.

'Yes of course I would have, but you didn't ask.'

'I might tonight.'

'Do you want to wait until tonight?'

'No. No I don't.'

It took us five minutes to walk back to the Vicars Row. We opted for my room. I closed the curtains and walked over to where Jane was standing. I wasn't at all sure if she really wanted to.

'Are you ok?'

'Yes, but can we take it slowly please?'

'Yes of course. One little bit at a time?'

'Umm. I haven't done anything like this for a long time.'

'I know. I'm a bit rusty myself.'

'Rusty? You didn't tell me that?'

There's nothing like a little levity in that sort of situation.

'Not there ….in my head……..probably. It can be quite tricky for a man……with someone new…..that they like.'

'Oh. Really?'

'Yes. You need to treat me very gently.'

I think that last bit aroused her. It brought out the nurturer in her. I looked at her chest. Her nipples had swollen.

We started slowly with the normal kind of foreplay. For quite a while I thought I was, to put it crudely, flogging a dead horse. Ten minutes in, and she agreed. It wasn't working……not for either of us. I had become encouragingly hard as I gently massaged her protruding nipples, but as the probability of ultimate failure dawned on me, I shrivelled to something that closely resembled a walnut whip….. and about the same size.

'Can I do something for you Otta?'

I'm thinking, well actually there is, and 'yes please', if that's something you feel you can do, but it's not everyone's cup of tea, so to speak.

Jane does her best with a delicate hand around a barely plump penis, but again, we're on to a loser. I'm a million miles from an orgasm, and right now, the prospect of ever reaching that dizzy height has vanished over the horizon. Then she says……

'Will you do it please….yourself? I'd like to watch…if you don't mind?'

That's interesting. My first thought was that Jane would be open to some sexual variation. Well, we'll have a go, and I don't mind one bit. Oddly, I find the idea rather exciting.

She lay her head on my chest. We are both naked. With my arm around her, I stroke her back with my right hand. It's a nice feeling. She gently plays with my balls, and surprisingly her fingers start to go further underneath. Amy would never really want to go too close to that part of my anatomy.

'Do you like that Otta?'

Do I like that? Oh yes.

I take my hand off her back and go down her spine until my fingers, slightly spread, reach that point where her buttocks create that beautiful valley that leads to her own forbidden place. I expect her to recoil, but she doesn't. I suspect that she likes where I'm going, and I certainly like where she's going. Just maybe we've hit on something mutual here. Things are beginning to work, and I'm developing some confidence in this situation….and more to the point, willy is getting increasingly interested. A couple of minutes on, and I'm definitely in business. In five minutes I'm about half way to what promises to be a decent ejaculation, or even further. Catching on encouragingly, Jane begins to masturbate…….slowly, her breathing louder now. This is much more like it. I go further and find her anus, expecting her to recoil from the sensation. She doesn't. There's an amount of hair there, which in no way puts me off the job in hand. By the sound of her, Jane is doing nicely too with her fingers rotating slowly around her sensitive bits, encouraged, it would seem, by my light touch around the focal point of her bottom, which is exactly what she's doing to me. There's a point when you cross the threshold……you know it's about to happen and there isn't anything that's going to stop it. I'm at that point now…..…and so is she. I know when a woman comes. It's pretty obvious, and now the thrill of it all tips me over the edge. I feel my urethra filling and very soon I will eject my semen. On her back, and half lying on her chest, I kiss Jane. Her own orgasm floods over her. She doesn't notice. Her chest is covered.

'I'm sorry Otta. I got a little carried away there for a moment.'

'Don't be sorry Jane. It was nice…very nice. Did you mind my… know.'

'No of course not. I rather like it.'

So do I.

We lay naked on the bed gently feeling each other's bodies. It's been a while for me and I am rather delighting in the subtle differences there are to discover in another woman's body. Of course they will all be different. I'm also aware that by now, James will be on the loose and just might come here. The last thing he needs is to discover his naked mother with her hand gently massaging my penis. That wouldn't do at all. But that's exactly what she's doing.

A half hour rest makes a big difference. If she continues doing what she's doing right now, there's a good chance that there will be a second coming, so to speak.

I'm lying on my back, more than willing to let Jane make the running, a task she seems be relishing. That's fine by me. But there's a difference this time. In my imagination, wonderful thing that it is, she is not here, but James is.

'I need to go to the loo. I don't feel very well. Will you come with me please?'

'Why? You can go by yourself can't you?'

'No. I need you there. I feel a bit weird.'

'What sort of weird?'

'In my tummy.'

'Where in your tummy?'

'Here….this bit….right down here…..'

James places his hand by the waistband of his trousers, and begins to move it from side to side.

'Please! I need you to help me…now!'

I close the door behind us. James stands against the wall. He looks me straight in the eyes. Surely not?

There's movement. I can't believe what he's doing.

'No James! Please!'

He's the perfect boy now…….perfect in every way. I lower my head to savour sweet smelling hair. Without words I plead with him…………

'Otta? Are you alright? '

'Sorry. It's my fault…..I was somewhere else, just for a moment.'

'A nice place?'

'In a way, yes.'

'A room you shouldn't go in?'

'I'm not sure. I suppose it's what you do in there isn't it?'

'It's just a story isn't it? Just something in your head? No damage done?'

'That's true. No damage done.'

How knowing she is.

I've often found that the second time is stronger than the rather too urgent and frenetic first event. Jane lies on top of me. She is not a large woman, but the weight of her body feels good, like heavy bedclothes on a cold night. But we're not cold, as our bodies move together, our skin lubricated by our mutual perspiration that lies like a little oasis of passion between us.

Jane washes me in the shower. She asked me if I would let her do that. I told her that certain conditions would apply. She smiles and agrees, without knowing what they were, the silly girl. Jane has long cellist's fingers. She has a gentle touch on my body. My mouth is close to her ear as I make my request. Her reach is perfect. Patience is indeed a virtue.

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