The Bus Stop

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 9

I thought it would be a good thing to do something with Kerry in sight of his granny, just for her see some interaction between Kerry and I under her roof for a change. She's a sweet lady if ever there was one. Kerry had just finished what she called his 'tea', an expression we don't use in our house, which is in fact Kerry's last meal of his day and it was baked beans on toast followed by a small apple. Not much for a growing boy. In fact not enough, and not the right sort of food at all, except for the apple. He has a slim build and there's no fat on the boy. He doesn't look as if he's starving but he always falls on the biscuits mum puts out for us when he comes round to ours. It's like putting food out for a stray cat sometimes. I thought doing a revision paper at his house would get granny more aware of what I was doing with him rather than doing it all at our place. He did the revision test on the small kitchen table before showing me upstairs which consisted of two smallish bedrooms, his much smaller than his grandmother's, at the back and overlooking a tiny unkempt garden showing the remains of a flower bed, an old rose bush that looked like it hadn't been pruned in decades years, and some long dead grass all contained within a boundary of dilapidated wooden fencing. Between the two rooms and off a narrow hallway was a tiny space for a dingy lavatory, a washbasin and shower tray and a pretty horrible plain plastic shower curtain. I swallowed hard and looked at Kerry, who looked a tad forlorn. No wonder. It's not his grandmother's fault. That's for sure. She's an old eighty-something-year-old.

'Well we could think about people in Gaza right now couldn't we, and what they're having to put up with? Not to mention Ukraine. Or those African places; or Iran. Or even America.'

Kerry looked down, taking a deep breath as he felt my hand on his shoulder. He's still in his school uniform, sans his snazzy pale blue blazer, his hands deep in both pockets causing his short grey trousers to tighten around him and highlight those alluring touchy feely unseen panty lines. Ok, I know that's a bit fem of me but that's just me I'm afraid. Let's face it, I am a bit fem; inside at least. Kerry knows what I need to see next.

'Do you want to see round my room Arlo?'

I had the tour which only took a few seconds simply because there's nothing to look at, no book shelf, no playthings of any sort, just a narrow single bed with an old plain beige coloured duvet on it that was probably an attractive cream colour once. Oh, and just the one pillow. I like two but I don't suppose he's bothered with such niceties. There is a pine chest of drawers under the window and a free standing long satin walnut wardrobe with a very creaky door that clearly wouldn't close properly. I have a couple of nice teddy bears I keep as companions next to my pillow. One of them is to be redeployed forthwith and go to sleep with Kerry. That'll make a pleasant change for Teddy Number Two. I don't need to do it these days but I'm sure he got tired of me rubbing myself against his tummy. I knew that the first time I perceived any sort of wetness when the feeling came upon me, that I had to stop abusing him. Poor old Teddy; what he has had to put up with over the years. The much smaller Teddy Number One never had to endue such an indignity.

I took the few steps to reach the wardrobe and opened the door to find his school blazer on a blue plastic hanger, and a spare pair of long dark navy blue trousers that had seen better days. The chest contained everything else you might expect to find, a couple of pairs of grey school socks, two pale blue school shirts and some other small items I had given him. In all, pretty sparse. He didn't appear to have a spare pair of school shorts which he should definitely have had. There wasn't anything casual for weekends.

I put down the stuffed carrier bag I had brought with me. The things I had ordered for him, and me, from Next had arrived that day, left by the postman by the back door, the usual place if no one is in.

'Your new things from Next. It came this morning. I'll leave the bag here shall I? Or should we see how you look?'

'Yes. Can we do that?

Entirely my pleasure to do that, with him, rather than watching Kerry see how it all fits his neat body. I can just see him modelling for Next Kids. They would love him because not only does he have that alluring face and naturally generous expression, but those slim, almost skinny legs the boy models have on those kids' trendy fashion websites. And yes, I've have looked. That would have made him some cash. But it's all about life chances isn't it? So much of our lives get made for us by circumstances well beyond our control. I've been lucky. We have to remember those who have not been lucky, and try. Well I am trying!

Everything looked so good on him. Next don't know what they've missed in Kerry and what a perfect model for their boys' kit he would be. I sat on his bed while he took off his school uniform, everything in fact because he has new play shorts, new trendy tee shirts, new brief pants, and even three pairs of socks, and a new pair of school trousers. Not bad for what mum knows to be a very deserving case. Miriam doesn't need to be told and it merely emphasizes her lack of ready funds; as far as we are aware. She'll find out when Kerry hangs it out on the washing line that traverses what passes for a garden. It was so lovely to see him proudly showing himself his new kit before it was neatly tucked away, and just before the pyjama bottoms went on, a bit too early I thought. Is he made to go to bed at some unreasonably early time? Surely not.

'Can you look at something please?'

'What Kerry?'

'It doesn't feel right in there.'

He turned his back on me and gestured towards the problem with his hand. Oh dear.

'You'll have to show me Kerry.'

He did show me.

'I can't see anything amiss Kerry but I'm seeing things very well. Perhaps if you……..'

I didn't need to say anything more. I make sure I've been before I leave for school and done the preventative stuff. I'd given him some a few days before, all part of his care package.

'Will you do it please.' As in 'Just do it, ok?'

'Really? Alright then but it would be best if you lie down Kerry; maybe?'

I sat on the edge of the bed as Kerry lay back, his legs out of the way in the best possible way for my liking. My mind went instantly back to The Book, and one of the best ways [illustrated] to prepare your lover. I pressed the plunger on the top of the bottle and watched as the pristine thick white creamy substance emerged onto my middle finger, before gently introducing it to the very focal point of Kerry's preoccupation. There was resistance, as there should be, but it gave way to my intrusion, gripping my finger as I went further beyond. The thought of another part of my anatomy doing the same thing stirred me, just as it appears to be stirring Kerry. It must like the feel of it, that's all it can be. The sheer physical sensation of all those nerve endings becoming excited like that. I just watched Kerry grow, and grow, all the way there.

'I'm just going to use a little more Kerry.' I said as I withdrew to load up again, before re-entering, a far easier proposition now. In fact as smooth as silk, and as far as I could reach, then back again, then slowly in again, to set up a slow but rhythmic sequence that I knew I could maintain for as long as he wanted me to.

'Shall I stop now?'

'No don't.'

Just that as Kerry looked at the wall. I had been pleasuring him in this way for perhaps ten minutes. Kerry drew a huge deep breath and slowly exhaled.

I saw no reason to do anything other than stay where I was, which was confirmed by Kerry's hand on mine to prevent it going anywhere other than where it was. That's curious. It said that in the Book. Even when it's all over for you. It's all part of the experience; to let everything subside naturally for both of you. Just keep making love in whatever ways there are.

'Will you kiss my tummy please.' He ordered.

I did.

'Lower than that.' He demands.

I did that too. Then with the other hand he redirects my head; and my mind. I look back at him.

'Are you sure?'

He quickly nods. This is something new for me, entirely new, something that I've dreamed of doing with many a boy I have seen in a multitude of places. I have seen them in playgrounds, on beaches, even in the library. They can be anywhere.

Oh lovely lovely Kerry, if only you knew what you have just given me! It is the breakthrough we both want.

Despite our success, I went home feeling a bit down about Kerry. I spent quite a lot of that evening thinking about him and not one thought was untoward. Not even when I was in bed early. I wondered about a play but even that didn't want to work. Then Clive came into my mind. Did I find him interesting? Or not? I couldn't make up my mind about that. And then our prospective employment with Phil? Clive suggested or rather intimated that Kerry and I should ask Phil if we could be models for the portrait class tomorrow, and if we could handle that, even model for the life class on Friday?

For some odd reason the girls weren't at the bus stop this morning. I was the first there which was very unusual. Kerry came round the corner a bit late, which is in itself unusual. He looked pleased to see me, probably still glowing from his test paper I gave him last night round at his place which he did very well at, and the other very interesting event.

With no girls on the bus, that just left Kerry and I. I asked the driver if he knew why the girls weren't on.

'Training day at their place mate.'

Kerry was on the back seat, nearside, next to the window when I joined him.

'My turn for the window Kerry.'

'Oh yeah sorry.' He says, letting me slip past his school rucksack and him, brushing his body nicely, which didn't go unnoticed.

'That was nice Arlo.' He says, looking up at me.

'Last night? Yes wasn't it. Something to build on there; maybe?'

His smile told me. My stomach did one of those flips. That augers well for the next chapter in the Book which we haven't read yet, at least he hasn't, and deals with two bodies becoming one, and the various ways a couple might go about it. Having studied that chapter a number of times for some bedtime entertainment and inspiration, I have views on what I personally would choose, should we ever have the courage to attempt it. Kerry makes encouraging noises but that does not mean he's either ready or even really wants to be united in that way. So we should keep things simple until such time of his choosing, whenever that shall be. We haven't even spent a night together yet.

So I have the window seat with Kerry sitting up tight against me which is normal, often with his head leaning against my shoulder. But there's one difference this morning. He has his right hand on his left thigh, his thumb resting just under the hem of his short grey trousers. Then he sighs loudly. It has to be a signal to me.

'That was a big sigh. What's the matter?'

The hand moves onto my right thigh as he leans further into me. I put a hand around his head, my fingers into his longish dark brown hair, and I can feel the warmth there. He doesn't answer my question. The roving hand moves higher as he leans in harder still. And then higher still until it can go no further as he curls his finger hard under my upper thigh. The hand travels slowly back to my knee and then returns to its place of rest once more, tight into my groin. I can do the same, can I not?

Ten minutes into our journey of twenty-five minutes plus, doesn't leave a lot of time, but it leaves enough for some basics. I suppose you'd call it kneading, for want of a better word that I can't think of, all outside the trousers stuff, along with a wonderful extended kiss during which we both found ourselves wedged into a corner of our pants uncomfortably. We broke off, smiling, for the necessary adjustments to be made, and began again. I got off the bus feeling the effects of that prolonged engagement.

I could still feel the sensation after my mouth-on mouth-encounter at Registration, that five-minute period at the very beginning of each day when we have to answer 'Yes Sir' as our names are called out by our form master. I think we went at it a bit too enthusiastically on the bus, but well worth the effort. We could have finished the job easily but that would have been a step too far and just two minutes away from Kerry's stop. On a chilly October morning we had our coats to hide our indiscretion as we left the bus.

Wanting this school day to be over, it dragged on to the bell at three fifty.

Kerry was waiting at his stop. All's well so far.

I felt some nerves going in to Phil's life class with Kerry at ten past four. He had told us to use the side gate and make our way down the path to the studio. I opened the double door to find four people, three men and one girl already setting up drawing boards on easels and attaching sheets of paper with shiny chrome clips. The girl looked quite young, like a student and very pretty with a long blond ponytail like my sister Fiona has. The two men said hello and one of them introduced himself.

'Hi. I'm Peter, and this is my friend Henry.'

Umm. Friend? Or lover. Henry shot me a guilty glance. A penny for your thoughts Henry?

Henry didn't say anything but just kept on fiddling with a sheet of paper. I thought he looked nervous too.

'Hello.' Kerry and I replied in unison.

We were introduced to the class of four people.

Phil says 'Thanks so much for coming. Are you ok to start boys? All you have to do is sit reasonably still, back-to-back on these chairs. If you get asked a few questions it's fine to answer them; or just smile and keep quiet if you'd rather. They're all very nice people so just relax and think of the money.'

Everybody laughed which did a tiny bit for our confidence.

Think of the money boys. Not bad advice. I just thought of the money, and no one asked me or Kerry anything the whole time we sat there. The good thing was we were allowed to look back at the people as they drew us for the hour, thinking of the fifteen pounds we were going to get at the end, in cash, divided into two, and in two separate small brown envelopes. Real money for what was really old rope. A bit of a bargain. Both of us have already decided that we would volunteer to be models for the life class tomorrow. Ok we will show everyone our pants but so what? It's no more than you would do on the beach any day throughout the summer is it?

I thought the drawings of us were quite good, especially Henry's. He did Kerry. The one Peter did of me I thought was pretty rubbish, a bit of a mess really, all in charcoal and really big, but Phil liked it for some strange reason.

'Very……… expressive Peter. Very nice. Excellent work, well done.'

Maybe Phil is scared that Peter won't come back again if he thinks he's rubbish at drawing. A good business decision.

We are always told to make every effort to find an alternative word to 'nice', but these people use it relentlessly when they look at each other's drawings.

'Oh that's nice Emily.'

She's done Kerry as well and I suppose it was quite nice of him, the complete figure in his school uniform. Actually it was very nice.

Friday morning, usual time.

The girls are back on this morning, worse luck. The bus company must be losing a packet just carrying us lot to and fro each day. A fifty-three seater just for the five of us which seems silly to me. Both Kerry and I are a bit preoccupied with the life class after school today. Kerry is really keen to go ahead with it. I'm sure he's thinking about the extra money we'd get for showing our bodies off, albeit still in our brief pants.

'Did you bring a spare pair Kerry?'

'Umm. Did you?'

'Yes. Just in case.'

'In case of what?'

'I dunno. I Just thought……I should I suppose. You do, don't you? Just in case.'

Why did I bring a spare? Mum always said to go to things with a spare pair, just in case. I never asked her what she meant. I imagine she meant not being seen in pants that had a wee stain at the front; or something like that. Some boys are careless when they are in a hurry to get back to playing, or they wear them too long. My dad said they took just four pairs of pants to his boarding school. Yuk.

It was just like yesterday, the students setting up easels, boards and paper clips that clanged and pinged when they dropped them on the floor. There was no conversation going on, just this preparation sounds of board clips, adjusting the height of the easels and a drawer being open and closed several times to get large sheets of paper out. There was a spare easel standing in the middle of the room on a not particularly clean bedsheet, presumably a prop for us to stand against.

'You might want to keep your socks on boys.' Says Phil. 'You can change over there in the corner.'

Socks on? No. There were a couple of hooks on the wall to hang up our school stuff. I had had PE today so I was in boxer shorts. Phil wants us in brief pants, and so does Henry if I have his number correctly. That was quite a glance I got from him. I looked round while I was changing my pants from the unacceptable to the desirable [to Henry], sideways on to him to see if he might shoot me another of those looks. I did it twice and he was looking both times, the dirty sod, but looked away the instant he saw me looking at him. Guilt for sure. He likes the cut of my jib, and my underpants too, and probably what rests quietly inside them. Mind you, he's not so bad himself, looks wise. Kerry was fine as he only wears the right kind. Crikey, he does look good in just his pants, with his lean spare physique, long spare arms and legs and the most perfectly formed bottom. I put him in very brief pants this morning with hardly anything at the sides over his hips. I remember my mother raising her eyebrows when I said I wanted them in the shop.

'Are you sure darling? There's not much of them.'

I was very sure! I'd keep them on in bed until I'd finished my nightly playtime. On Kerry they look tantalizingly loose fitting, so from certain angles you might get a peep inside. Very sexy…….indeed.

Kerry waited for me, very anxious not to have to step into the limelight before I did. I changed my pants with my back to the room. A bare bottom is nothing really. We both stood there waiting, Henry fiddling with various bits of charcoal.

'Are you ready boys?' Asks Phil.

That was the call. We walked together to the middle of the room to be 'posed' by Phil. Kerry looks great and oddly very confident suddenly, like he's enjoying the examination he's going to get from four pairs of eyes, not counting Phil's.

He has us both standing, partially supporting ourselves with one arm on the horizontal part of the easel which supports a drawing board, Kerry looking one way and me looking in the opposite direction, straight at Henry.

After five minutes I was wondering when the first break would be. It's far harder work than I ever imagined it would be. My advice to anyone contemplating a life modelling job is to insist on sitting or lying poses. At the twenty-minute break of five minutes, our general fidgeting prompted a change of pose. The next one had us lying back-to-back on a fresh sheet laid over a single mattress, the easel removed. Again I was facing Henry. I watched him. I'm sure it made him feel a tad hunted as his face visibly reddened. He had one hand in his pocket as he worked away with charcoal stick, fragments of which went onto the floor and in imminent danger of being trodden in. That's where our cleaning job would come in.

An hour later.

'Arlo. What was Phil saying to you just before we left this afternoon?'

'Oh nothing much, apart from giving me the cash. Nine quid each, this time. He said it would be more next time.'

'Oh fantastic. How much more?'

'Twelve each for the hour.'

'Oh great.'

'But we do have to do something a bit different to get it.'

'What?'

'Take everything off. He said if we model in the nude we get paid more. What do you think about that?'

'Well that's ok isn't it? We're practically naked already aren't we?'

That was not quite the response I was expecting!

'There's bit of difference isn't there?'

'Not much. I will if you will?'

'And show them our willies?'

'Why not? Why would they be interested anyway? We're just ordinary kids aren't we?'

'Yes we are, but………'

'But…… what Arlo?'

Goodness me, what charming naivete! Just wait 'till we get you on that beach this summer young man. I cannot wait.

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The Bus Stop

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 9