by Rigby Taylor

Chapter 5

Reginald Gets His Wish

Back at the school swimming pool, Jason Boieluv and Rex Trovert were impatiently waiting for dusk to fall. When the last sounds of activity had died they ventured forth and, keeping to the fence-line, made their way to the Principal's house, an old Queenslander on high stumps, accessed through a gate near the tennis courts.

'Jason and Rex, isn't it?' welcomed Mrs. Noall, apparently unconcerned at her visitors lack of clothing. 'Come in. Adam's on the phone, he'll join you directly.' She led them into a comfortable lounge, placed small towels on the seats of two sprawling armchairs and went off to make a cup of tea.

'I guess these are for us,' Rex said, plonking himself down on one of the towels and leaning back with a grin. 'It would seem the Noalls are not unfamiliar with naked visitors.'

'He's a nudist at weekends, belongs to some club,' Jason said thoughtfully, sitting forward to conceal his pot belly and genitals. 'Even so, her equanimity at the arrival of two stark naked men is more than a tad surprising.'

It wasn't so surprising. The high-set house gave a view over the entire school grounds, and the Principal and his wife had watched with delight as the two teachers crept nervously towards their house. Earlier in the afternoon, ensconced in her favourite chair on the verandah, Mrs. Noall had observed the comings and goings of the sports day. She disliked crowds so hadn't joined the parents on the grandstand, preferring to spy. Thus she had also seen Rex and Jason disappear into the swimming pool enclosure, and a few minutes later, Sebastian and Rodney wander up and disappear behind the wall, followed by the clothes thrown over and the two lads scamper off.

Very little escaped Mrs. Noall's Argus-eyed vigilance. For the last seventeen years everyone, teachers and pupils alike, had wondered how their Principal knew so much about them. How he managed to pounce at exactly the right time on smokers, on teachers avoiding their playground duty or arriving late and sneaking into school, getting pupils to clean their cars, or borrowing school equipment for the weekend.

Some had attributed supernatural powers to the man who remained always friendly, especially when pointing out their offences. They soon discovered, though, that a reprimand delivered with a smile is no less impressive than a negative rant.

Knowing his boss, Rex was not worried about explaining the situation. They'd always been on the best of terms and from Mrs. Noall's welcome he guessed there would be no problems.

"You're looking irritatingly relaxed,' Jason snapped.

'What do you mean?'

'Sprawling there with your cods in full view.'

Rex looked down. 'They're rather fine, so Fee tells me. Why would I hide them?'

'You're as bad as Sebastian.'

'If you've got them flaunt them,' Rex said smugly. He was proud of his genitals. Large without being ridiculous. Smooth and manly. 'So, the boss is a naturist; that explains why he supports nude swimming.'

'I'm surprised you haven't joined them at lunchtimes.'

'I intend to from tomorrow. Just wanted to clear it with Adam.'

At that moment, Mrs. Noall arrived carrying a teapot, followed by her husband with a tray of cups and biscuits that he put on a side table. Turning to the teachers he said thoughtfully, 'Someone stole your gear and you've no idea who it was?'

'Not the foggiest.'

'At least your clothes are no problem, the cleaner just called to say he found a pile of clothes behind my study door. He's bringing them over.'

'So it appears they weren't trying to really hurt you,' Mrs. Noall said brightly. 'Just to let you know something.'

'Yes, but what?'

'I'm sure if you think hard enough you'll discover the answer to that,' she said with an enigmatic smile.

'By the way,' Rex added casually. 'Is it Okay if I also swim au naturel at lunchtimes?'

'Of course, if you think your reputation can stand it.'

'What do you mean?'

'Nothing at all dear boy. Nothing at all,' said Mr. Noall, thus encouraging his teacher to think carefully before leaping into cold water.

'Whoever took our clothes had been listening to us,' Rex said thoughtfully as they returned to their cars. 'And the person that springs to mind is your put-upon ex-pupil.'

'Mmm, makes sense. That's worrying.'

'Not at all. If he held a real grudge we wouldn't have seen our clothes or wallets again.'

'I hope you're right.'

Rodney pulled up in front of Sebastian's house and stared at a blank, pink-stuccoed facade that stared right back. Just left of centre, three steps led up to a featureless door with no apparent means of ingress. On the right, a short drive descended steeply to the closed door of a double garage.

'Very intimidating,' he said in some awe. 'Your folks must be rolling in it.'

'Hardly,' Sebastian replied in some confusion. 'Mum's just a secretary.'

'Your father then.'

'Haven't got one,' Sebastian replied curtly. 'It's just a house.'

'Worth several million dollars.' Rodney snapped, irritated at Sebastian's attitude.

'Sorry, I didn't mean to sound like that. It's just that my life is getting complicated. Forgive me?'

'I never refuse requests from desirable young men,' Rodney grinned. 'Now, where's your place, Reggie?'

Sebastian leaned through the window. 'Reggie, would you… I mean can you stay with me tonight?'



'Like Rodney, I'm the slave of your charms.' Reginald clambered out unable to believe his luck.

They waved goodbye to Rodney and mounted the steps. Sebastian placed his palm on an unobtrusive panel to the side of the door. It opened silently and they entered.

'Very hi-tech,' Reginald observed admiringly. 'I've been trying to get Dad to upgrade security, but he reckons we've nothing worth stealing.'

The entrance foyer was a hexagonal space with doors in the centre of each wall. A tiny chandelier, ornate coat stand with gilt mirror and a hexagonal oriental carpet were the sole furnishings.

Reginald gazed around in amusement. 'Six identical doors. Which one do we take?'

Sebastian pointed to each door in turn 'We've just come through this one, that one on the left goes to the guest washroom and toilet, the one on the right is the internal entrance to the garage below. That one in the middle leads to the lounge and kitchen, etc. That one between the garage and lounge goes to Mum's quarters; they're the mirror image of mine, and this one's mine. Come on.'

He led a bemused Reginald into a large, empty dressing room and closed the door.

'We take off our clothes here,' Sebastian whispered, removing his shorts and pouch. 'I never wear clothes at home, and neither do the guests we take in from time to time, they even arrive starkers. You're the first friend I've ever brought home, so Mum will expect you to be like me I guess. She's begun to frighten me a bit lately. I'm too nervous to think but it's probably best if you don't wear clothes.'

The strain in Sebastian's voice was obvious so Reginald asked no questions, stuffed his jeans, underpants and shirt in a shelf and put his sandals on the floor beside the only other things in the room; Sebastian's leather thong sandals.

'Where are all your clothes?'

'When we first moved here, this room was used to store everything so I kept the few clothes I had on a shelf in Mum's dressing room. I never wear anything other than shorts, and when I put a pair out to be washed she puts another in here. It's not worth arguing with her about it; I'd never win. My running shorts and new yellow pouch, though, I keep in the cupboard beside my bed.'

'Still seems odd.'

'She told me that Mr. Farzdbuk was worried the guys who stayed here would take my clothes and run away, whereas if they had no clothes they'd have to stay.'

Reginald shook his head in disbelief.

'Yes, I know. It sounds criminal but somehow Mum made it seem perfectly reasonable. Odd, isn't it, how we don't question things when adults tell us it's normal? It never occurred to me that we might be holding guys against their will; that they had the right to leave if they wanted to; because we were the good guys and they needed taking care of. That's the power of brainwashing. I don't even have towels because she says they go smelly in the humidity. A few press-ups and I'm dry in a minute. I don't like clothes so don't feel deprived, but I do have a beautiful bathroom.'

They walked through into a luxurious bathroom with shower, sunken tub, toilet and vanity unit. Sebastian tossed his running shorts and 'g' string into a laundry basket and they stood side by side gazing at their reflections in the large, full-length mirror. This was the stuff of Reginald's wildest fantasies, but in them he'd forgotten that he looked long and lanky, despite his physical strength and honed karate skills, while Sebastian was physical perfection.

'What're you thinking?' Sebastian asked.

'That you're beautiful and I'm ugly.'

Sebastian looked at his friend in surprise. 'No! No! It's the opposite, Reggie. Beauty is a reflection of character. I'm a false front; an emotional mess, while you're an island of sanity in a sea of hysteria; therefore to me you are beautiful. I'd love to be as tall as you, as calm and rational as you, as easy and uncaring of the opinions of others as you. I wish I could fight like you and had a sharp tongue like you… I wish… I wish I was you.'

'Bollocks. Mum says I'm just a long streak of pelican shit.'

'She's mad. You've already started filling out and soon you're going to have a much better body than me, and your strong jaw and noble brow mean your good looks will last your whole life. I'll be just another boring body in the crowd in ten years.'

'Strong jaw and noble brow! Really Seb, This isn't a fairy tale.'

'It is for me now you're here.'

'You don't mind that I'm lanky and pale?'

'You're not lanky; you're tall and fit. Your body looks as if it's carved from the most expensive ivory, you can walk all day, you're a karate kid, the only really interesting person I know, and you respect nature.'

'If I'm so perfect, why don't you love me? You know I'd do anything for you. I'd die for you.'

'Now who's into fairytale sloppy sentiment? You're my best and only friend and I do love you.'

'But not sexually.'

Sebastian looked up into Reginald's trusting eyes and felt a twinge of guilt. 'Reggie, I'm not good enough for you. My life is very odd and strange. I've had sex of one sort or another with about eighteen guys and felt nothing. I'm terrified that if we take our friendship to the sexual level it will spoil things. You'll be disappointed and realise I'm an empty shell.'

'What sort of sex? Bum fucking?'

'No, not that. At least no one's done it to me, but I've done it to others.'

'Was it good?'

'Not really. I prefer just kissing and stroking, touching and playing with each other and finally jerking off. Usually I don't care if I don't come.'

'That sounds exactly what I dream about doing with you.'

Sebastian's smile was unsure. 'Well, if you stay the night who knows what might happen.'

'I'm staying.'

'Shower first.'

They showered together, soaping each other timidly as if frightened the dream would shatter. Neither became aroused, it was too special an experience for that. They scraped off the water with their hands and jumped up and down to dislodge the last droplets. After a score of press-ups they went through to Sebastian's bedroom where Reginald laughed at the bed, admired the space and said he'd have to call his parents.

'Reception's bad inside — too much concrete. Use my mobile.'

They went out through the French windows to the rear patio and made the call, then wandered back through the lounge to the bedroom.

'Like Rodney said, your mother must be rolling in it to own this place. Everything's so huge and modern and expensive. The patio and garden are enormous and totally private, this is one of the most sought-after residential areas in the city, and your bedroom's like something in a period movie. That king-size four-poster! Is it comfortable?'

'Try it.'

Reginald lay on the bed and grinned. 'Very comfortable. Is this where your guests stay? With you? In this bed?'

'Yes, and one's coming tomorrow for a week.'

'I'm jealous.'

'Don't be. It means nothing. I just help them to regain confidence in life after being beaten up and hospitalised. A friend in need sort of thing. Come outside again.'

Sebastian led Reginald to the far end of the garden, discussing plants and flowers as they went. They stood in silence for a few minutes until Reginald could bear it no longer.

'Why did you want me to come today, and stay the night?'

'I don't know. I feel something's wrong. I'm nervous. Don't face the house or talk loudly. I'm probably paranoid, but I think I'm being watched, spied on. Mum sometimes knows things I'm sure I haven't told her, and Jack too sometimes comes up with things that he can't know.'

'Who's Jack?'

'Mum's accountant and confidant. He taught me how to treat the guests, after rescuing me from drowning.'

'Have you had sex with him?'

'No, just a cuddle. He's not gay I don't think. Actually, I know nothing about him. I know nothing much about anyone in my life. Mum has always insisted she has no idea who my father is because she was raped by a masked man. I've no idea where she came from. Her parents were dead before I was born. Her boss, Farzdbuk, is fat, ugly and very strange. All I know is he's insanely rich, rescues homeless young men from the streets, owns a private hospital where he puts them back together again physically, then trusts me to give them a psychological boost and physical male bonding crap until he finds work for them. I get friendly with the guys, but not one has ever contacted me again afterwards.'

Sebastian paused, sighed, shook himself as if trying to dislodge something unpleasant between his shoulder blades, then continued in a voice even softer than before.

'Farzdbuk seems to have some sort of hold over my mother. She manages his employment agency. Once or twice a month we have a soirée here for Farzdbuk's business acquaintances; mostly from China, India or the Philippines. I've no idea what they talk about or why they come, although sometimes I perform for them.'


'I've always made up dances and routines since I was old enough to walk… crappy stuff. But they seem to like it.'


'Of course.'

To Reginald there was no of course about it, but Sebastian's innocence precluded any comment. 'And I'm the first friend you've ever brought home?'

'Yes. Mum's never said I can't, but I know she didn't want me to. It didn't matter until now. You see... you're the first person I've wanted to bring home. It took what happened this afternoon to make me realise I need the support of someone I can trust.'

'What happened?'

'Rodney told you about us eavesdropping on Boieluv and Trovert?'


'What he didn't tell you was that Rex Trovert confessed to Boieluv that my mother forced him to have sex with her a bit less than eighteen years ago when she was the temporary school secretary. The dates are exact. He's my father. And now I know, I can see all sorts of similarities. His skin colour to name only one. My father was raped, not Mum! I don't know if I can act normally with her any more. That's one reason I wanted you here, so if I seem strange she'll think its because I've a visitor.'

Reginald took Sebastian's hand and stroked it. 'Why did Trovert talk about it today do you reckon? Seems a bit odd — especially with Boieluv.'

'I guess it was because Boieluv was so upset and confessed what he'd done to Rodney, so the shock of seeing my mother at the sports brought back unpleasant memories and a secret he also wanted to get off his chest. He knew Boieluv wouldn't tell anyone.'

'My mother likes yours.'

'No accounting for taste. Anyway, she doesn't really know her. She's never been here—they only meet at that ridiculous born-again religious happy-crappy place.'

'At least Mr. Trovert is a really excellent guy. I always wondered where you got your looks and character.'

'Meaning my mother was an unlikely source?'

'No offence, but yes. I always assumed you'd been adopted by your grandmother. Are you going to tell Mr. Trovert he's your father?'

'He won't want to know he's got a nutcase for a son! He's married now, probably with kids of his own.'

The sound of a car pulling into the basement garage silenced them. Sebastian took Reginald to the rear wall of the house where a small shed concealed the swimming pool pump and downpipes from the roof that passed through a wide opening to the garage beneath, before disappearing into the city's storm water drains. It was dim inside the shed so as long as they didn't move they'd be invisible from below. They peered down and watched Desolé get out of her Audi, take a bag from the back seat, lock the car and walk towards the stairs. Reginald felt inexplicably nervous.

In the event, Desolé was distracted, seemed coolly uninterested in Reginald's staying the night, and ignored him. She microwaved three frozen dinners, reminded Sebastian to be home early to meet the new guest the following day, then took her tray to her room and shut the door.

Left to their own devices, shyness overtook them. They lay on the bed and talked about nothing in particular.

'How come you know Rodney?' Sebastian asked.

'Dad's his manager.'


Yeah. He manages loads of show business people. Singers, dancers, actors… Finds gigs, makes appointments, organises concerts. Mostly for the tourist trade. Rodney's so popular for private parties Dad has to turn people away. He also runs a couple of nightclubs.'


'No, Dad.'

'What nightclubs?'

'Phallus Palace and Hole in One. They're gay night spots. Dad used to have a heterosexual one too but gave it up because there was always trouble — drunken fights, violence, drugs. The gay ones are usually well behaved and polite to performers — unless they're invaded by straights.'

'But… what does Rodney do?'

'He's the most popular 'creative dancer' in the city,' Reginald said with a grin. 'Creative meaning very sexy stripper who'll do anything in front of an audience. And I mean anything!'

'And you've seen him? Is he good?'

'He's brilliant. If I'm there I act as his assistant. When he tosses his gear off I collect it without being obvious so he can exit gracefully.'

'At the clubs?'

'Sometimes, also at afternoon hen parties, bridal showers... that sort of thing if it's on the weekend. I also help Dad at the clubs, he reckons it might change my mind about being gay if I see what they get up to.'

'Does he care if you're gay?'

'Not at all, I think. We've never really talked about it. He's not the sort of person you can talk to seriously. Doesn't listen.'

And has it put you off? What do they get up to?'

'Of course it hasn't, I was born queer. But it's taught me not to be focussed only on sex. They're private clubs, members only, so the only rule seems to be no coming on the dance floor because the insurance doesn't cover falls on slippery semen.'

Sebastian's face was a picture of disbelief. 'You're joking!'

'Yeah, they're usually a pretty conservative lot. Some of the young guys are hot; great sweaty torsos and of course the occasional 'g' string worn by someone who should have known better. We had a "Mr. Nude Phallus Palace" competition last month. You'd have won it hands down. But most patrons are as boring as everyone else you meet on the street and not particularly friendly. Downright rude most of them. I've seen no evidence of a gay culture, support network or any other sign that they're less egocentric and selfish than the rest of the population. Being gay doesn't mean they're interesting. Doesn't mean anything, I've decided.'

'Great minds. I decided that recently too. Can I go with you one night?'

'As soon as you're free. Rodney performs every Saturday and sometimes on Wednesdays.'

Sebastian promised to take Reginald to the river where Jack had rescued him, then mentioned vaguely how well he was getting on with Con Achilles, but didn't tell about their nude fight. Reginald reckoned he should drop wrestling and join karate because it was much more useful.

'I'm too dumb. All those katas you have to learn, and shouting and prancing around makes me feel stupid. I tried it for a while but could never remember the moves.'

'You get used to it. And if you persevere, after a while the kata moves become like reflexes so you don't have to think no matter what someone does or where they attack from. There's just an instantaneous defensive response. Wrestling's useless in a real-world fight; no one's going to stand there and obey the rules, they'd just slam a metal bar into the back of your head.'

'I agree karate's probably more useful, but I don't want to let Mr. Achilles down.'

'Yeah, I understand. The karate bloke's Okay, not as friendly as Achilles, but a damned good teacher. I'm going to enter the secondary schools karate competition, and last weekend I successfully smashed the nose of someone who tried to steal my mobile phone outside the post office.'

'Reggie! That's brilliant.'

'Yep, I'm a dangerous man, Seb. You're lucky you've got a killer on your side. Together we'll outface the world.'

Sebastian leaned over and kissed his friend. Gently. A soft brushing of the lips.

Reginald immediately got a hard on and giggled.

'I'd completely forgotten we were naked. It's great, isn't it? I understand now why you do it. It was excellent swimming naked the other day too.'

'Join me at lunchtimes.'

'If I was as beautiful as you.'

'You are beautiful.'

They wrestled lightly, kissed some more then settled to exploration and sweet nuzzling until finally the pressure became too much and they ejaculated simultaneously, each holding the other's erection, lips glued together.

'That was much better than I ever imagined it would be.'

'Me too,' Sebastian whispered. 'It's nothing like what I've done before. That was just playing around. This feels serious. I think I'm in love! I wish it was you sharing my bed tomorrow.'

'It will be soon. We'll sort this out, don't worry.'

'You're not jealous?'

'Of course not. If you love me, I trust you. If I can't trust you, then you're not worth loving. It's simple.'

In the morning they pleasured each other again and promised eternal friendship and love.

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