The Persistence of Memory
by Rafael Henry
Chapter 18
With Robert Edwin Mole, or Robbie to us, resident at his own home again, Duncan I sleep together. The discussion about the legal age of consent drifted on for a few days, and included Garth's input, which wasn't particularly helpful.
'Do what you feel is right, for both of you. In a way Duncan's view is most important as he's younger, but Alex, it's your liberty to lose, not to mention all the other consequential problems……job, reputation and so on. I had the same decisions to make, but that's my story, not yours.'
Oh, thanks Garth. Very helpful.
I wake Duncan up in the nicest way, I think, as does he, as my boy slowly comes to, and out of his deep sleep. I very gently stroke his body from the top down to the farthest point I can easily reach, avoiding his sex. That can take care of itself, until such time as he directs my hand to its boyhood wonders. We have come to a conclusion concerning the age of consent issue. Love conquers all . But termtime is busy and tiring for the boy I love, so physical activity has to be limited to weekends, mainly, unless there's an emergency. As there was last night.
We went up early about eight thirty. Duncan said he was tired and wanted an early night. It wasn't that. He wanted sex. But was this the right time? I thought not. Not if it was to be the special occasion we both wanted it to be. But there are other ways to satisfy his sudden urge.
'Good?' I asked Duncan as he lay there with his hands behind his head. He was wearing that ethereal expression again. Then the most beautiful smile spread over his face as he looked at me, hovering over him.
'I wanted to stop you.'
'But you didn't did you?'
'No.'
'And?'
'You know. You know me now.'
'I do, and I love what I have come to know.'
'All of it? Even that ?' He says, touching my mouth.
'Umm, all of it, especially that .' I said, licking my lips.
'My inner being.'
'Yes. The very centre of it. The very essence of you .'
'When then?'
'At the right moment.'
'When we shall meet in the middle?'
'Indeed so. Joined.'
We kissed before I watched my boy descend into sleep a few minutes later. I thought it right to wait.
I can't say I really noticed the loss of my virginity. I never thought of it that way as I was far too excited about other matters at the time, as my ten-year-old friend, my age too, prepared to spear me. It was all just fun and nothing to do with sex at all. How we had heard about what boys could do with each other I can't remember, but we just did it, very nicely, using our own saliva the smooth the way onwards and inwards. Given the very limited girth, not to mention the length of my wriggly partner's penis, there were no technical difficulties at all. The first few times we did it to each other, up in our respective bedrooms, neither of us got as far as the orgasmic stage. Later, when we both got more proficient, we both did, have got the idea of lying down, knees up and held back etcetera. Anyway, Duncan's dead set on continuing his growing up process. It's just a matter of timing, and getting clear in Duncan's head what this sleeping together business is all about. He thinks, in his sweet naivete, that it's a constant shag party. Thus, I have to disabuse him of this notion, not that I'm rejecting the shagging bit. He'll get shagged alright. I want him to know the truth about all that, and how he should learn to take it, perhaps give it, and how to extract the most pleasure from the experience, and you never know, he might just acquire the art of reaching orgasm during penetration. But that will be largely up to me to try and make that happen for him. It's always good to set oneself a goal methinks. I've already got him on pelvic floor excercises! Just as Garth taught me.
'It's about being where we want to be all night Duncan, not about sex. It's about sharing a part of our life together. The going to sleep relaxed and in a good frame of mind, and waking up close to someone you care deeply about. Do you get that?'
'Yes I do, but there will be more won't there?'
He said that genuinely worried that this is going to be some cosy platonic arrangement. I know perfectly well that boys like him and countless others actually need more than that. Rest assured his needs will be met.
I took me about two days to edit all the camping trip video, cutting appropriately for public viewing and what was not appropriate, putting that material into a separate file on an otherwise empty memory stick to give to Quintus. Not having made a copy, I took it over to his flat up on the second floor of the old building. He'd set up his laptop in the bedroom. We sat on the bed with our heads against the wall behind us, the machine between his and my thighs. I think the total footage amounted to just over fifteen minutes. We went through it once, starting with various angles and close-ups of the boys stepping out of their trunks and paddling naked in the babbling brook, a very nice image with great lighting from the sunshine and the five very happy boys all having tremendous fun, and apart from the older boy, Martin Glover, Quintus's right-hand boy, and as it happened, right-handed according to Quintus, and not a hair in sight. The boy looked about fifteen, very pretty, but as Quintus said, a late developer. I thought him very beautiful. He was as tall as Quintus.
I had finished the piece with the study of Duncan's face, and I possibly in the process of being brought slowly and surely to his peak, not visible on the screen. Watching his sweet face was enough, as the boy makes his feelings known in no uncertain way, quite loudly, sounds I had heard a few times before emanating from his bedroom at Morwenna House. The visual impact was extraordinary, and then if you add in the sound, quite overwhelming, all in HD I might add, and quite enough for Quintus and I to succeed in our separate missions and finish a couple of minutes before the boy did. Wow! I had edged for as long as I could bear it until there was no going back. Quintus managed to hold off longer than I did, in fact just after the video sequence ended, coming very hard indeed with great long sighs all over his chest and tee shirt. Oh dear. Naughty Mr Messy, as opposed to the not quite so messy boy that I was. I had to laugh.
'How was that for you Quintus?'
'Very very lovely thank you. Can you pass the tissues please.'
'How many? One?'
Quintus laughs.
'Might need a few more Alex.'
Four it was, and I did the honours. Goodness me, I'm excited.
I think it was always worth waiting for that development in boys, the transition from dry to wet. I saw it at S. Endellion a few times, happening almost overnight in one case. It was a matter for some detailed discussion, and examination, amongst the boys in the dorm. It's a wonderful milestone that boys never discussed with their parents, although Garth was always hinting about it. He was quite direct about it, that first evening back from school. I had just had my thirteenth birthday.
'Are you doing what boys do at night Alex?'
'Do you mean masturbating Garth?'
'Yes. How's it going? Everything alright?'
'Fine thanks. I can come now if that's what you're on about.'
'Oh good. Are you enjoying the boys there at Endellion?'
'One or two.'
'Your age I hope?'
'Oh yes.'
'Not even one out of you age group then?'
'No of course not!' I lied.
There were plenty of boys who were up for a bit of fun in that place, apparently available at any age. It took a term or two for the first years to come to the party, but once they had, they were seriously into starting a relationship, just as I was. I'm talking about maybe one boy out of five who would be very obviously interested. There were ways of making one's interest known to a boy you 'liked'. It might take a few days to come about, if it was to happen at all. Sometimes I got it wrong which was very disappointing having seen the youth in the showers and liked what I had seen of him.
I closed the lid of the machine.
'I think deletion is called for don't you Quintus?'
'Why?'
'It's all over this place, as you well know. Angus? What's happened is history. That can't be undone in the human mind. But other things can be. Duncan says that you've never had any physical contact with him. Is that true? I bloody well hope so.'
'Yes, perfectly true.'
'Are you sure? Remember I have the power Quintus, if you think about it. I'm not entirely sure you are thinking about it.'
'So, what do you mean?'
'I mean it's time to clear the decks and appraise the situation. It won't take me long. I would take my advice if you know what's best for you. And I know you're using Duncan as a weapon. If all this comes into the light of day? What then?'
He must have been thinking about it before because his attitude changed in just a few moments.
'Is it that bad then?'
'Yes. Worse than bad Quintus. Disasterous. Potentially, for not just you but Angus as well, not to mention the school's reputation.'
'Ok I get it. Can you do it then?'
'Easily.'
'With no trace?'
'Yes. Just one other thing Quintus. That sequence with Duncan. The last bit that just showed his very expressive face. Was that you?'
'No of course it wasn't. You know that.'
'Well who was it then?'
'The love of a boy's life Alex, apart from you that is. It was Robbie.'
I laughed. It had to be Robbie.
It took me three hours to sort out Quintus's machine; wiping the hard drive and reinstalling Windows, and then reinstalling all his programmes and data he wanted kept. He had got hold of Angus's machine too, with his permission, so that got the same treatment as his. And mine? Nothing much to do there, but I kept all my images of Duncan who is no longer in jeopardy, thank goodness. I am a legal target for Quintus. Duncan is not, not to mention the damage he could inflict. We all look , but that's as far as it goes. Quintus knows that as well as anyone.
And as a result of the big clean up, courtesy of me, I've come to an amicable arrangement with Quintus. He calls me a monk these days. He's right. But before I get into anything too deep, as it were, or anything too deep into me, I'd like to go over past events with him. The boot these days is on the other foot. My foot. Ok, he wants to play, but it will be on my terms or not at all. When you've been a monk for quite some time, you learn to be patient. Memories have got me by for a while now, good ones, vivid ones, and it persists, this memory thing. In terms of my sexual history, I can remember everything .
The school has just gone live with a website, at last. I've been telling Angus, our Head Man, that we should have one to get in line with current thinking about marketing ourselves properly. So well done me, as I drove the project technically, and Quintus aesthetically, he thinks. He's not an artist. I am. The film contains all a parent would like to see, shiny, smily and healthy looking boys everywhere, doing all the academic, sporty, arty and wider-curriculum [yuk] things you could wish for, and more at this precious stone set in a silver sea. Gosh, we do look good, all done in June with golden flesh on view, and lots of it. Tanned arms, faces and loads of long legs up to the boys' armpits. I actually saw one boy whose blazer his short grey trousers! And it wasn't the length of the blazer. It was the extreme brevity of his shorts. Yes I'm happy with it, and so is Angus Simpson, our Headmaster. He has also been informed of my other important project, the big digital clean-up, and in so doing has come to realise how much I know about what has been going on behind closed polished mahogany doors. More power to me theretofore.
He called me up to his office the next morning. I knocked, and on the command of 'come', [you'll be lucky] I opened the door to see Angus sitting behind the desk I knew very well, having sat there myself for a few hours delving into his predilection for pretty boys of a certain age. Fair enough, he probably can't help that, any more than I can, or Quintus can. That's one of those things is it not? I stood in front of the desk waiting for Angus to look up from what he was doing. Finally he did.
'I think we understand each other Alex, by now; don't we?'
'I think we do Sir.'
'Good. May I misquote Mark Twain?'
'Please do Sir.'
'We collect pets: young girls from ten to sixteen years old; girls who are pretty and sweet and naive and innocent—dear young creatures to whom life is a perfect joy and to whom it has brought no wounds, no bitterness, and few tears.'
'Perfectly true Sir, with one important difference. There are no girls here Sir.'
'Quite. So we do understand each other don't we.'
'Indeed we do Sir.'
'You're still a boy at heart I feel.'
'Oh I think so Sir. I'm not quite eighteen, so I'm still a boy. I certainly feel like one.'
'Good, and not for just that reason, I'm glad you're here with us. In fact I'm glad you're here right now in this room. I'm more than three times your age Alex. Do you find me in any way repulsive because of that?'
'No Sir, not at all.'
'I've seen the boys' drawings of you from the life classes.'
'Have you Sir.'
'Yes. But hardly the place for me is it?'
'I suppose not Sir.'
'I envy them their opportunity to see you in the flesh, naked like that.'
'That's a shame then Sir. Do you sketch…….a little? Yourself?'
'No, but I look Alex. Just as they do.'
I walked around the desk and let Angus do some more looking, very obviously at the front of my trousers. Surely not? Thank goodness, exposing himself wasn't on his agenda, but exposing me, might be. I could see him mentally undressing me. Ridiculously, I went and stood right by the corner of his desk as he sat there, his hands on the desk top, fingers spread and moving. He took that as an invitation. The hand got closer and closer and I didn't move. Then the back of his hand brushed against my trouser front, and consequently, my cock, which had enlarged with the prospect of interference. Angus is not unattractive, with his stylish grey hair well groomed, lean figure and good posture. I just let him get on with it, finding my penis in my pants with one hand outside, and pressing the other into my backside. Like all good boys, the obedient thing began to fill and stiffen. I knew what he was after next so I took a step closer so he could reach me more easily.
I quite enjoyed it as I looked sideways at a truly awful painting on the wall, preferring that to the man's face. If this is what he wants, that's fine.
'I'm afraid I won't be able to orgasm Sir. I did it just a few minutes ago. I can't again so soon afterwards. Sorry.' I said quietly, and with a very straight face.
He disengaged and looked up into my face, unable to respond to my honest and naive announcement. It obviously had put him right off. We made polite conversation while I put myself together, and a couple of minutes later, I was gone from the room. Actually he had got me quite close to orgasm but I wasn't going to give him that pleasure. I stopped him just in time. I could feel wetness down there so I found the nearest lavatory, walked up to one of the two urinals the boys use, and squeezed out a drop or two of the pre stuff. At that moment a boy with lovely butter coloured hair came in, apparently not noticing me, stood at the only available urinal a few inches from me, clearly needing to pee urgently. Out came the most delicious uncircumcised kinderkock imaginable, duly skinned back to reveal a bulbous crown for my delectation, as he stared downwards leaving me to admire the enduring beauty of the boy's bits. Oh bloody hell! The boy peed for about a minute, his good sized dick gradually enlarging as the pee finally abated into a dribble. Then the toing and froing with his foreskin, back and forth about two dozen times. I thought he was masturbating for me. He just went on and on. I think he must have been some sort of juvenile exhibitionist, the way he just carried on regardless of who was standing immediately to his left. I just stood there watching this wonderful performance. Finally, with a few last squeezes, he's done with it, zipped up carefully, and left without washing his hands, the naughty boy. At no time did he even glance in my direction. The other nice thing was he had lowered his trousers enough to see his most of his cute underwear. A bonus on top of everything else.
It was just one of those moments that happen occasionally, and well worthy of commitment to a persistent memory. In the two minutes he stood next to me, not once did he look at me, but just at his momentous volume of passed water. That's the thing. One's appreciation of a thing of beauty definitely is a joy for ever.
By sheer fluke the same boy passed me an hour later as I walked across the Quod, a hard square open space hemmed in by three buildings with a rectangle of hallowed turf in the middle with a path running through the middle of it. KEEP OFF THE GRASS, the small green and white sign commands us, speared into the ground, so we do avoid treading on the precious emerald sward. The boy looks at me and says 'hello again' brightly, his butter coloured hair tangled to resemble Crompton's Just William character, only his hair, from memory, was a nondescript brown colour. In every other respect, he could have easily passed for William Brown, and very fetching with it. The boy stops. And with a frown, looking like he's going to ask me something.
'Have you seen Duncan on your travels Sir? You know him don't you?'
'I do, and no I haven't. Try the Art Room?' I suggested.
'Thanks Sir.' The boy says, satisfied with my answer. But I'm still curious so when he's a few feet away, hands in pockets causing his trousers to tighten nicely over his bottom, I fire my question at his back.
'How do you know Duncan?'
The boy turns back towards me.
'We shared a tent on the Bodmin Moor trip last week Sir.'
Oh did you indeed, I'm thinking, as the boy hurries off in the direction of the Creative Arts Block. Tonight you had better tell all Duncan, if there is anything to tell. I must have been speaking to the mysterious fifth boy on the Bodmin trip.
So the Head Man, Dr Angus Simpson, Mr Quintus Beer, and I know where each of us stands when it comes to things we would rather no one else knew about. That makes us equal in a way, but some are more equal than others methinks. As the junior member of this club here, I have the least to lose, which gives me more power, not that I'm the kind of person who might wish to exercise power. No I don't. But a tad more influence might well be desirable?
Good news! I am now officially a Member of Staff and an equal to likes of Quintus. Not only that, but I am to do an Open University degree course in Computer Studies, all agreed and funded by the Governing Body, signed and sealed. Tonight I am to dine with Quintus at his flat, and as I've told Garth when I delivered Robbie, Rosie and Duncan back to Poverty S. Erth this afternoon, I may not be back tonight so would he do tomorrow morning's school run for me? He agreed, so I'm off back to Truro to spend the evening with Quintus, and possibly the first night with him since I was an innocent boy of twelve desperately in love with him, the flame of which flickered and then was overcome by the darkness. On the way back to Truro I wondered if that flame might just burst back into life? Maybe that's what Quintus thinks. True, I was infatuated by him, at the time, but his sudden but necessary disappearance hurt me badly, but he was right. It was a painful ending but doubtless the best way for both of us. Since, I've always harboured that nagging curiosity. What would it have been like? Illicit sex. I'll never know now. But tonight there are some questions I need answering.
Neither of us wanted to eat too much, and we didn't. Quintus drank two whiskies to my one, which I didn't enjoy, apart from its effect which was very pleasant. And then the question I was expecting.
'Would you stay the night? I'd like you to. Anyway you shouldn't drive home after that very large scotch.'
I looked at him sitting in the armchair opposite me. It's a warm night and we're both in shorts. He's sitting provocatively with his knees wide apart, just as I am, giving me a good view up the inside of his right thigh of his white briefs. He sees me looking which is what he wants me to do.
'Good?' He asks, eyebrows raised.
'Pretty good, yes. And me?'
'Very nice, but not quite what I remember.'
'I was twelve Quintus.'
'I know.'
'I loved you.'
'I hoped it was something like that. I loved you too. Hugely. Tell me something. Would you have gone through with it?' Quintus asks.
'Oh yes I would have done. I gave you enough opportunities Quintus. I waited and waited but……..it didn't happen. I had it all planned in my mind. You would have made passionate love to me. It would have hurt. I knew that but I was desperate to please you. Give you everything you could possibly want from me. I thought that if we were sexually one body, you'd be mine forever. That was the young boy's thinking. Naïve I agree.'
'And impossibly innocent with it. You were beautiful Alex. Those legs. Gosh how I loved those legs. And the pretty face. The smile. The whole naked body in the sun.'
'But it's not the same now is it?' I said.
'Isn't it?
'No. I really don't see the point now. It would just be rather cold sex. I think we both would prefer love, but that's no good either is it. For us. It's an inconvenient kind of love we want. You can see it but you can't have it. That's what you thought wasn't it? You see it, touch it, even kiss it as you did, but you can't possess it. It can never be ours. We have to go on suffering don't we? For ever. You wanted to do it didn't you?'
'Yes I did. And we both know why I didn't.'
'Yes. Now we could, right now in your bedroom. Bring it all to an end. A fitting conclusion. Finally laying the ghost, if I may put it that way. But do we both really want to? Perhaps we shouldn't and leave the story as a tragic romance, still pure and perfect. Still painful, for me at least.'
'I suppose you're right Alex. About everything as usual. I did apologize.'
'Yes you did, and that was fine. I understood perfectly, and there were no hard feelings. Well, not many and not for too long. I'm not a virgin by the way. I got a fantastic boyfriend not long after. Johnny. I liked the doing and he liked to be done to so that worked well. I based a lot of my models on him, and others, like Duncan and Robbie. All done from the live model so no, I don't keep an archive of photographs. Would you like one as a gift? I think I owe you in an odd sort of way. You know all about Duncan I assume and how he came to live with us at Morwenna?'
'Yes, in that weird village of yours.'
'Indeed, very weird. My father's choice. Duncan goes back to his parents for the holidays of course so it's just a term-time arrangement. I love him, needless to say, as I think he does me. It has been very similar to our situation really, but the other way around. Sex with him would be not only dangerous for him and me of course, very selfish and quickly over, but the love we are currently experiencing is ok for both of us. It's limited. He knows how enjoyable sex would be together and he's slept with me several times. I taught him how to kiss a boy properly and discussed other things he should know about. It's all quite painful really, this love business when it can't fully ripen into fruit. When the frim bud can't be picked. Do you agree?'
'Yes, fully agree. You call it a rose bud. Yours. I wanted it so badly. So nothing since then?'
'No not really. A few orgasms together, that kind of thing, like you and me the other day. But we were looking at Duncan in that tent. I wasn't looking at you Quintus. Was I.'
'No. So what are our choices then?'
'Go on as we are I suppose, suffering in silence, and talking to each other about it. It was that boy Charlie wasn't it? We didn't see him in the video but it was him, with Duncan. It was, wasn't it?'
'Yes it was. I didn't want to tell you because I thought it would upset you.'
'Well it doesn't. Why shouldn't they enjoy themselves like we did. I did.'
'S. Endellion?'
'Yes, and later. After I had left there and gone to that place back east and met the boy of my dreams. And now I'm back again in the land of the piskies. Duncan will leave us in due course. Robbie has already gone back to his father's house and his sister Rosie. Robbie was Duncan's lover. I'd listen, I ashamed to say, to those boys in the bedroom next door doing whatever they were doing. The bed squeaks which made it interesting. Most nights and most mornings they were at it like a couple of rabbits. Mucky knickers on the floor. Damp tissues to pick up. Duncan was in heaven, as was Robbie while it lasted, but they started to argue about everything and nothing. Then they'd go upstairs and shag each other, I assume by the noises within, to get over the petty squabbles. Funny really. Garth, my stepfather, kitted Robbie out from the shop he works part-time in, in town. Garth has an interesting story to tell, a German refugee my father befriended while he was the Cathedral's accountant. A blond and beautiful and very camp, basically homeless German boy about fifteen, when he found him hanging around the building to keep warm. He took him home with him to get him off the streets. I was a baby and Garth did all my child rearing for years. He loves me. He's so sweet. I'm sure he's like us too, or like me. I'm not entirely sure about you Quintus, but I'm not asking.'
'It was Charlie Van Hoeven. The last night, and before you ask, no I didn't. Not in any way with anyone. It was a bit of deja vue Alex. Duncan so much reminds me of you at that age. Yes, and I am jealous. To have those boys so close to you like that must be wonderful, and painful too. I understand all that you are saying. I'm the same, suffering selfishly, like you. We have no excuses really. At least we exercise some self-control, unlike some you hear about.'
'Quite. We undress boys in the playground. Fool around with them in the shower and take them to our bed, all in our heads, based on what we are able to know about them.'
'Evidence gathered by hook or by crook for the memory bank.'
'Or accidental sightings. Like Charlie the other day. I got caught short and nipped into the boys' lavs thinking that no one would come in. Charlie did, and stood next to me for a long piddle. I just had to turn my head sideways to see it all. Crikey. There's plenty of it, the lucky boy, or possibly his unlucky partner.'
'And not just the front. Why do you think I selected him for the hike over Bodmin?'
'Oh no. Have you kept something back from my digital clean up? I hope not?'
'Guilty I'm afraid. I know now it has to go, but can I have a few more days please?'
'Fine, but on one condition.' I said, smiling. 'Is this the moment to retire to the bedroom, do you think?'
Not one camera but two. The second is at the entrance of the tent looking inwards, low down and between Duncan's feet, tilted upwards, his balls are held firmly in the textured pouch, not hanging but held tight inside, as the textured ridge of tissue runs from there up to the boy's anus with its golden hinterland that surrounds the more puckered inward facing lines that lead the eye to the point of entry into that place where a million nerve endings are concentrated to give the owner his, or her ultimate pleasure, at this moment tightly closed for business. Below, in the shadows, we can just make out the boy's penis, extended as it is and drooping by its own weight, linked to a gay boy's brain and a mouth that pleasures another boy. Charlie Van Hoeven. The scene if dimly lit but still perfectly clear and perfectly focused. We see between Duncan's thighs the underneath of Duncan's chin, and the face and mouth and tongue slip and slide, as the boy begins to respond to this most exotic of sensations. Duncan inspects the now fully erect perfectly smooth kinderkock, the sheath of fine pale skin drawn back to reveal the shining saliva laden dome and the clearly defined opening at its centre. The boy smiles as Duncan whispers to him. The boy obeys and with both of his hands he pulls his legs as far back as is possible revealing his own anus with its own unique structure as Duncan's head goes down once more, his tongue tracing the line from anus to scrotum, and then back again before continuing along the now fully erect shaft to the underside of the boy's crowning glory.
Duncan shuffles his body forwards slightly, the camera re-focusing on his own sexual anatomy, but perfectly placed to finish his task.
Those little cries of rising excitement. How erotic those sounds are as these entirely new and irresistible sensations rise deep within Charlie. The boy breathes louder now. Soon, surely? What Duncan is doing for Charlie is indeed irresistible. Finally and very beautifully, the boy gives himself up to Duncan, as he lets go of everything in one last ecstatic expression of pleasure. The deepest of deep sighs. The unforgettable sounds of orgasm that come from the pre-pubertal boy. Pipy and perfect.
Duncan inspects again, carefully examining the boy with the tip of his tongue. Did he? Has he? He fondles the boy's balls, loosening now. He applies some pressure along the now deflating shaft from its beginning to its end. Yes he has. There's definitely something there. Or there was. I would challenge any boy not to succumb to treatment like Duncan has just provided. Quintus rewound a couple of minutes.
'Have you ever known that?' He asks.
'Do you mean in the Biblical sense Quintus. Surely not?'
'Yes I do. Have you?'
'Not in that sense no, but affirmative in another sense.'
'Oh really? Do tell.'
'When he first came to us. About six months ago now. Garth had a word with me.'
'What about?'
'He does all the laundry. Duncan needed to make some improvements to his personal hygiene.'
'Oh. He hadn't learnt the Morwenna House method by then?'
'No. He needed a lesson and I was the one to deliver it.' I said, laughing.
'I bet you enjoyed that then?'
'I did, and so did Duncan. You can tell when a boy's enjoying someone fiddling with his rear end.'
'You certainly can. No need to tell me what happened. I do not wish to know.'
'Nothing drastic I can assure you, but his reaction prompted an interesting conversation a bit later up in his bedroom.'
'I can't do that for you every time Duncan. It's DIY I'm afraid.'
'Would you want to? I mean if you had to, would you mind doing it?'
'Not at all. It's one of my interests, as you know very well by now sweetheart. I would have no objection at all, every single day. Would you like that too?'
'Yes. It made me……..well you saw didn't you?'
'I did see, and it was good Duncan. Very good. Robbie's staying over tomorrow night and Sunday too I think. You could pass on the good news to him perhaps?'
Quintus and I are looking at the still image of Duncan, as we take some deep breaths.
'Well the Morwenna method looks like it's working well. It looks pristine in there.'
'Doesn't it just.'
'And incredibly tempting, just like another one did a few years ago not too far from where I am now that I once knew?'
'But again, not in the Biblican sense, sadly.'
'Sadly indeed.'
'You know I would have let you don't you?' I said.
'I kind of got that idea Alex. I've no idea how.' He laughs, restarting the video. 'Any further thoughts on that subject?'
'I'm having a few thoughts, yes, one of which is about you and Duncan. He said something last night which concerned me rather.'
'Oh? What was that?'
'He seems to hold you in high regard Quintus. Apparently he's been a regular visitor here. I had no idea he was sneaking over to your flat at lunchtimes. Why was he here Quintus? You had better tell me.'
'Why should I? We get on well together. He's interested in my ideas. Anyway it's a free country isn't it? He can do what he wants.'
'No he can't do whatever he likes. In a word, he's ours. His home from home is at Morwenna as you well know.'
'Robbie is history Alex, as far as I can tell. He's not looking for little boys any more. He wants something more now. He's growing up. He wants a proper relationship. I have plans for him.'
'Do you. So what's all that stuff going on in the tent with Charlie then?'
'Nothing. Well, perhaps not quite nothing. Just a bit of a performance.'
' Something for your camera.'
'No. As I said, just a bit of fun between two boys who find themselves in a tent together and like the look of each other. That's all.'
'I'm not buying that one Quintus. Not now, not ever. What is all this really about? What do you really want? Why did you come here in the first place? You knew I was here didn't you? You followed me here. What have you done to Duncan? I can tell he's different now.'
'Yes he is different now, or soon will be. I haven't quite decided what to do with him yet.'
'It's taken you a while hasn't it; to steer his little boat into your harbour. Is it too late?'
'No of course not. It's never too late. Your choice now Alex.'
Me or him. Is that it? Is that the choice?
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