The first thing that probably woke the two lots of parents were the mingling smells of coffee and frying bacon. Mum told me later that she was concerned that it was James's parents trying to set them an example.
Dad found us in the kitchen, where we had breakfast nearly ready.
"We were leaving it until the last minute just to cause our parents the maximum possible embarrassment." I explained kindly. "Go and get mum, would you? I don't care if she's washed or still in a dressing gown — we can't wait. James is just going to throw the same spanner in his parents' works, aren't you?"
"I'm going to enjoy it, too." And James set off down towards his parents' cabin.
Eventually we were all at breakfast, though James and I were hurrying ours in their anxiety to get going.
"We keep on seeing boats going the same way as us, Dad," said James. "Martin's recognised one that he'd hired before. We need to get going quickly to catch the first one coming up towards us."
"Why's that?" his father asked.
"If we do, the locks'll be ready for us."
"What d'you mean, ready for us?"
"Dad! You went through several yesterday. You should have realised! When a boat comes up towards us, it leaves the lock full for us. If we're there at the time it'll even leave the gates open. That saves time and water."
Peter thought for a moment, then understood. "It'd be the same, but different, if we were going up and someone else was coming down towards us. I see. Clever! And I suppose you two think you're going to have all the fun going down these towards last night's pub while we get up properly, wash up and tidy. Is that it?"
"We could do with some help, Dad. One to steer and one on his own to work eight locks isn't much fun."
"All right, you win. It was us who said we wanted an early start. How about it?" This last question was fired at his wife and my parents.
"What do you want to do, girls?" asked Dad.
"You and Peter can clear up; we'll throw some clothes on and show how locks should be worked, eh Doreen?
"Good idea. Give these men something to aim at."
"It's going to be one of those days, George. It always is if they gang up on you from the beginning!"
So James took the tiller, and I hoped he'd remember what we'd practised yesterday. Having done a lot of sailing all those years ago at least meant that he was used to steering a boat, even if this one was about six times as long as our sailing dinghy had been. Our mothers and I readied ourselves for a quick getaway, but not before I'd told them to take the stakes out of the ground before untying the rope, so they could get used to the idea of not leaving them there. The first few of my own holidays had seen too many lost mooring stakes for me to start forgetting now!
There was a boat coming toward us, two locks away. James had started the engine, after remembering on his own to do all the checks on it first. I was impressed by that. Seeing a boat about to come under the bridge some way behind us, he shouted to us all to cast off quickly and get down to the lock as we didn't want to lose it. There was a bustle, Doreen pushed the bow into midstream and all but fell in, then James opened the throttle just enough to move slowly down to the lock gates. The wind was gentle, fortunately, as it would otherwise have blown the boat back toward the bank, but I had warned him about that and he was trying to counter any possibility by oversteering a little. I called to him from the bank.
"Put her nose into the mouth of the lock, if you can, but gently."
James grinned at me and let the boat almost drift along. The following boat was coming up on us quite fast. From the bank I shouted to the steerer over the noise of the his engine.
"There's a boat coming up, about one lock away. We're letting them clear the top lock before we start going down — it's set against us."
The man raised a hand to show that he'd heard, and put his engine into reverse to slow down. I knew that our boat, at sixty feet long, couldn't share any but these wide locks, but I was determined to save water where I could by sharing now and ensuring we waited where possible for craft to set the locks for us.
I tied up at one of the bollards at the head of the lock while James held the boat steady. We waited patiently as the approaching boat entered the lock and rose steadily as the water flowed into the chamber. With our mothers helping me the heavy gates were opened easily and the other crew were thankful not to have to work so hard. As usually happened, the two crews passed the time of day with each other and their boats were admired. With the ascending boat clear, I slipped the rope from the bollard and James opened the throttle to push the boat into the lock. The following boat entered alongside, we closed the gates, opened the paddles at the opposite end and started the descent.
We dealt with the eight locks in fine style, the two boats keeping each other company all the way. I was intrigued to see that the crew of our companion boat was similar in age to their own, with two girls instead of James and me. Both girls were attractive, and more than once I wondered if some miracle would happen and I could catch the eye of the elder of the two as she worked at the lock paddles with her windlass. I tried striking up a bit of conversation with her about he heaviness of the gear, and soon — to my surprise - we were talking about anything and nothing. It was such a rare occurrence for me that I was even surprising myself.
Once, when she and I were on opposite sides of the lock chamber, I looked at James who was still steering. His face looked grim. I didn't know whether to put it down to concentration or to something being wrong. He was ignoring me. As there was nothing he had to concentrate on at the time I wondered what was the matter, and if the younger girl had somehow offended him. But she wasn't steering the other boat. She was helping with the locks. Yes, it was true that James was looking in her direction occasionally, but no words were passing between them. Perhaps it's just that he's thinking, I thought. Then it was time to open gates and lower paddles again, and I thought no more of it.
We reached the bottom and "the workers", as Peter described us, were given a mug of tea to reward our efforts. He and Dad had been busy on the boat. All the washing up was done, they had swept it right through, and were now ready to face the morning. "Want a rest, James?" his father asked, as his son yawned and rubbed his eyes.
"Yes please," replied James, and disappeared into the boat without further comment. Peter looked rather surprised as he watched his son's retreating back, and I wondered if he sensed something wrong, too. I made sure that Peter was happy steering on his own, watched carefully by Doreen and mum, then excused myself on the pretext of the demands of nature. I passed through the kitchen and looked our joint cabin. No sign there. I sat on the bed, wondering what the matter was. The toilet flushed next door, James opened the cabin door, saw me, said "Oh!", and made to pass the door on his way to the back of the boat again.
"James…wait." I had to see what was wrong.
James paused.
"What?"
He came back into the cabin and stood with his back to the door, looking at the floor.
"What's up? Was it that other crew? Or have I done something?"
James shook his head, saying nothing.
I crossed the cabin to him, put his hands on his shoulders, and said quietly: "James……?"
At last the boy looked up. There was defiance in his eyes. "I made a mistake, that's all," he said in a slightly choked voice which made me wonder if tears were on their way. But no, he was fourteen, not nine.
"I didn't notice. What happened?"
"Nothing. It's not important."
"If it's knocked the smile off your face like that, it is."
"It's nothing. Really. Just…what were you saying to that girl?"
What was he on about?
"You mean the girl in that other boat? Passing the time of day. Didn't you talk to the other one?"
"She wasn't near me."
"Oh. I thought you would have made an excuse to get off the boat and talk."
"D'you think I should?"
"It's up to you."
"It looked as if you were chatting the other one up."
"I don't really think that's how it was. It wasn't intended, anyway. But even if I was, so what? I thought you were probably doing the same with the other one!"
"I never really noticed her — I certainly didn't say anything."
"Well, I was just passing the time of day — being pleasant - with her. I mean, I'm hardly going to start a relationship between two boats in mid canal, are we?"
"I don't know. Probably not. It's just that I thought…oh, nothing."
"You weren't jealous, were you? If you were, don't be. Don't feel left out either. I would never do that, you're too good a friend. Don't forget there have been times already this holiday when I've done my bit in trying to make sure that none of the others treats you any differently from the way they treat me, and so far it's worked, hasn't it? Nobody's said that you had stay on the boat while everyone else goes to the pub, have they? If they did, I'd certainly object as strongly as you — in fact I'd probably stay behind and keep you company."
James looked up, a different look on his face. "Would you?"
"Yes. You're not a child. It'd be wrong to think of treating you as one. So don't feel left out. I may chat to other people, of any age or sex, and I'd be very surprised if you didn't do the same. It makes no difference to how I see you."
"How do you see me?" There. The question was out now. It was what he really wanted an honest answer to.
I knew perfectly well what the answer was that I'd like to give, but despite what had happened the previous night I was still cautious lest I had misunderstood what was going on in his mind. But at least I could be incompletely honest.
I dropped his hands from James' shoulders. "I don't know why or how, but you've very quickly got back to being that very special friend of mine, one of a kind. I don't know anyone else who I could be as open with as I can with you. You were my little brother back then, and you're my brother now. I know neither of us has a brother really, but I think I know what being a brother really means"
I'd said enough, and felt embarrassed. I pushed past the astonished youngster and made his way to the bows, just in time to see that we were about to enter a lock again. It was as near as I could come to saying that I loved him without using the words. With some composure recovered, I called to James that there was another lock, and jumped onto the side, where the boy joined me, his eyes telling that he was happy again.
We continued our journey northward on the Grand Union, stopping for a break only once before Leamington Spa. We'd forgotten it was Sunday, of course. I always do it. We tried find a shop in Radford Semele, but succeeded only in finding the pub. James was delighted. We spent an hour there recovering from our exertions on the canal's wide locks, then walked back to the boat and set off again. The canal passes through Leamington Spa, although it might be anywhere at all. Leamington had considered itself too posh to realise the probable benefits of having access to a major canal, and is one of the towns which ignored its presence. To a large extent it still does.
The next set of locks started after we left Warwick, just west of Leamington where we had decided not to stop. We decided a good place to moor would be Cape Locks (the presence of the pub there was sheer coincidence, James decided) and explore Warwick and its castle.
The city's hot, busy streets, even on a Sunday, came something of a shock, even after only twenty-four hours' cruising. Like many before us, we had got so used to a much slower pace of life that traffic and noise and speed was bewildering. But we enjoyed the castle, which not even I, the experienced canal traveller, had been to before. Afterwards we found a shop open and were able to stock up on the necessities for a meal that night.
As it was by then only about 5 pm, we considered carrying on and trying to conquer the Hatton lock flight that evening. But twenty-one wide locks make for an exhausting evening's work, and I was far from confident that we'd complete it before dark, even with the locks set for us and another boat's crew to share the work with. Also, it had been getting noticeably hotter as the afternoon drew on.
"We've not taken on water since we started," I suddenly remembered. "We don't know if the boatyard will have filled the tank or just put a little water in."
As there was a water point at Cape Locks we decided to stay there for the night. We all climbed aboard, thankfully, to change into cooler clothing. Doreen was given the job of moving the boat along to the tap, whilst the others shouted directions from the bank. After the usual search I found the boat's filling point and was waiting with the hose as Doreen finished her manoeuvres. James, once again wearing his elderly PE shorts and giving me palpitations, was waiting in the bows, by the tank, ready to start filling. Dad had already turned on the tap so as to give the hose a rinse out, and as the bows came close to the bank I couldn't resist swinging it toward the boat, splashing James.
"Oy!" he said. "That was me!"
"Oh, sorry James. I'll try harder next time."
"It'll be you on the receiving end next time!"
"Not if I can help it! Anyway, you looked hot, so I thought I'd cool you down."
"I am hot. Aren't you?"
"Yes. Let me carry on cooling you down." So I put my finger partly over the end of the hose to make a jet, and pointed it directly at James, who shouted in mock anger as the cold water hit his chest. He tried to open the boat's front doors, but they were still locked, so the only means of escape was onto the bank, into the path of the water. Spluttering, he reached me and tried to wrestle the hose out of my grasp, as the four parents watched, laughing. I managed, with some difficulty, to grasp both James' hands in one of my own, then gasped: "What do I do with it now?"
"Put it down his trousers!" I looked in surprise at Peter, laughed, and turned to James who was still struggling, trying to get free.
"Are you ready for this?"
"Don't you dare!"
So I pulled at the waistband of his tiny shorts and inserted the flowing hose so that it pointed directly down James' middle. Then I released the boy who tore the hose free and immediately turned it on the middle of my own white shorts. I had been expecting the hose, but not the powerful jet that James was producing, and gasped as the cold water hit my tender parts hard. I doubled up, only to receive the force of the jet on my head.
"All right, all right….I'm sorry!" I cried, when my breath returned.
James took his hand away from the end. "Gotcha!" he said, triumphantly, then looked round at the others who were having hysterics. His hand moved back to the end of the hose again, and four people backed away hurriedly.
"Shall we try it on the boat now, do you think?" I asked.
"Why not?" came the reply, and James inserted the offending hose into the boat's water point. Mum and Doreen threw towels to us, and we dried ourselves off as best we could. Having got rid of the surface water we decided that as we were now pleasantly cool we wouldn't change into dry clothes. Fortunately neither pair of shorts were the sort that go transparent when wet, and both us were wearing underpants, so we were quite decent.
It was James who soon after found the little dial near the top of the water tank.
"Look at this!" he shouted. "We've only just made it!"
Everyone crowded round. I'd never come across a water level gauge on any boat I'd been on and wondered why nobody had thought of such a simple idea before. Sure enough, it was registering almost empty. "With the force behind that tap it's going to take ages to fill," I said. "We may as well do something else for half an hour."
"Pub," said James.
Well, why not? We were all tired after walking around Warwick, so we sat down outside, having considered the effect of two dripping crew members on the pub's decor. A pint later, Dad offered to go and check the water level, and reported that it was about two-thirds full, so we all wandered back, having assured the landlord that we'd be back later. "Who's doing the meal tonight, then?" asked mum.
"It's our turn to surprise you two," Dad replied. "Pete and I have something up our sleeves. You go and sit down — we're in charge."
"We may as well use up some of this water, while it's here," said my mother. "I'm going to have a shower." And she disappeared towards her cabin.
"Well, with Peter and George cooking, and Mary in the shower, what are we going to do?" Doreen asked us.
We thought for a minute.
"Pub" said James.
"James, you're getting to be a drunkard. I don't know where you get it from."
"Dad, probably. Are we going back?"
"Come on then! Peter, can you keep an eye on the water as well as cook? We don't want to turn it off yet — Mary's showering and I'll replace her in there when she's finished."
"Okay," said Peter. "We'll see to it. You go and enjoy yourselves. Back in about an hour, please, or we'll feed yours to the ducks."
"I'm going to get dry first," said James. "It's all right with one wet layer, `cos it dries quickly when its as hot as this, but trousers and pants, both wet, are uncomfortable."
I agreed with him. I'd been just about to do the same. We followed Mary down toward the shower to fetch our towels, then went into the cabin to dry and change.
"No morning masts now," observed James, looking hard at me when they had both stripped off.
I laughed. "No. Everything's too cold down there for that!"
I covertly watched him again as we scrubbed ourselves dry. Once I'm sure he spotted my eyes on him, but I managed to make it look as if I was swinging the hair out of my eyes. For my part, I swear that James was doing the same to me. The idea of being watched by him attracted me. I wondered what he thought of me after my declaration of the morning. But anyway, it was he who had suggested that the two of us should pay no heed to being naked together, but I was still far from certain what his real feelings were..
My attitude to being naked was complex. This was the boy who I'd been to a naturist island with, played naked alongside there, had showered with, slept with and taught to masturbate. But he was now fourteen. He was also very attractive, and I was scared of having an erection in his presence - at least, one that I couldn't explain away. But I was thrilled to have the youngster there and to be able to watch him and share his life for a week. To settle the problem for the moment, I dried myself quickly and dressed. James was in the meantime dawdling, drying himself slowly and looking out of the window, now paying no attention to what I was doing, for a change. He looked up eventually, and was caught out by my being fully dressed apart from footwear, and himself being still naked. That seemed to embarrass him, especially as I was looking squarely at him and about to speak.
"You're too quick!" he told me.
"Not at all. You're too slow! Come on, or are you going to the pub like that?"
"Huh!"
"If you want to wander around in the nude you'll have to wait till later, when it's bedtime. Our assorted parents might ask what was happening if you came to the table with nothing on! Or do you do that at home?"
"Hardly. The only times I'm usually unclothed are in bed or in the shower. I shouldn't think mum and Dad have seen me like this since I was a kid."
He dressed swiftly, and we hung our wet clothes on the rail, in the sun, then joined his mother who was supervising the men in the kitchen.
"Tell Mary where we are when she's out, will you. She might like to join us," she said at last.
So we returned to the pub, surprising the barman, who hadn't expected to see us back so soon. I had a pint, but Doreen said that she and James would stick to halves. He complained, but not too vehemently. I think a pint must have looked an awful lot of liquid to him.
Eventually, mum joined us. "That's better," she said. "I feel a lot fresher now, despite the heat. Even if it uses as lot of water, it's worthwhile."
"Water!" I exclaimed. "It's still running! And we're moored across the filling point! Back in a minute." I rushed out, across the lock gate and up to the bows of the boat. Dad saw me through the window and came out to see why I was back.
"Lost something?" he asked.
"Only some water……Oh. Have you dealt with it?"
"Give us credit for some common sense. We realised when your mother came out of the shower that it'd soon be full, so we kept our eyes open. When it started trying to flood the boat we thought it was probably full. So we took it off charge and locked the hose and the tap away in their respective places."
"Thanks, Dad. I'd forgotten all about it. How's the meal?"
"Coming on, but we forgot that it's got to be in the oven for an hour. You'd better tell the others. It'll be some time yet, I expect."
"Oh Dad! You twit! We could have kept your surprise for another day, when it could cook as we're cruising."
"I know that now," he replied somewhat testily. "As it is, Peter and I will shortly be joining you over there" and he pointed to the pub.
"Okay, I'll wait and walk over with you both."
"Tired of James' company?"
"No. Not at all. In fact it's just the reverse. It's strange, but it's just not like talking to a fourteen year old. I forget completely that's how old he is."
"Yes. Still seems a nice little chap. And I'm glad he's still not boring you."
"So am I," said Peter, coming out of the kitchen. "Though why you put up with him I don't know. He's not so adult when he's with just us two, I can tell you!"
"Nor was Martin, Pete. Yet we heard from his friends' parents that he was a perfect gentleman so far as they could see."
"But I am, Dad. I am."
"Stop being modest, and come to the pub."
Later, mum told me what was said in the pub after I'd left. She asked James how the sleeping arrangements were, and hoped they weren't too embarrassing and that he got to sleep all right
His actual words were: 'Oh, no. I mean yes. I mean no, they're not embarrassing at all and yes, I slept well, thanks.'
'It's not everyone of your age who would be as happy at sharing a bed with someone of their own sex so much older. I just wanted to make sure you were really OK about it.'
'Yes, Mrs Finch. It's really no big deal. I don't see Martin as being old.'
"Both of we mothers looked at each other and laughed," she told me. "We seem to think the same, most of the time."
She told him she was glad, and while she was at it, told him to call her and Dad by their christian names. Apparently James gave one of his slow and special smiles that lit up his mouth and wide-spaced eyes. "Thank you….Mary," was all he could say.
The meal was very late that night, and we all had to spend far longer in the pub than we expected. When we finally got the call to return to the boat there were two bottles of wine already opened to drink with it. By the time it was over we were all rather merry. James was comical, and was starting to lose control of his diction. Eventually, his father told him quietly that he'd be better going to bed. He did so, without much argument. My eyes followed him all the way, hoping that he'd be all right, and wishing I could go with him and help him sort himself out.
As if it was a signal, Peter and Doreen moved from the table, too, and I was rather pushed into helping mum and Doreen wash up. When at last it was over, we were all ready for bed, and I thankfully headed off to our cabin.
I found James lying outside the duvet, still fully clothed, and very deeply asleep. I tried to wake him, but the only responses were grunts. James' eyes remained firmly closed so I gave that up. As I undressed, I wondered what to do. James was lying diagonally on the bed, which meant there was no room for me in it. He would have to be moved and, I thought, put to bed properly. As the boy was so far out of it, I thought it was probably safe to do it myself, and I have to admit that my heart warmed to the task.
Now in my underpants, I knelt by James' side and once again tried to wake him, but with the same lack of result. I looked at the sleeping boy, then gave up the struggle against conscience and common sense and slowly bent to kiss his lips. I thought I detected a reaction, and quickly pulled away. But the deep breathing continued, and James didn't stir. I gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze, then slipped my arm round it to support him whilst I removed the shirt. Encouraging it over the drooping arms was difficult, and I had to use my knees to support the boy's back as I eased the sleeves off.
James had managed to take off his shoes, and the rather unpleasant socks came off without too much of a problem. I looked again at his face, to see if there was any change to his state of wakedness. There seemed to be none.
I felt at his waist for the top button of his jeans, undid it and paused. How many times had I longed to be in this situation since the holiday started? I grasped the top of the zip, and gently pulled it down, over the bulge that I longed to touch, and pulled it down to the end of its travel. By putting my arms around James' bottom I gained enough clearance to be able to ease the trousers downwards around his thighs, so that completely removing them was easy. I put his clothes on a shelf, then returned to him. To my surprise his body had been reacting to the sensation of being undressed. With him in this state, and as I'd been undressing him, I could hardly help myself. I gazed, trembling slightly, at the growing bulge in his underwear. Almost of its own volition my hand stretched out towards him, and just as James had done to me the previous night, I traced the length of the boy's penis with my fingers, then around the sac of the testicles, then again up the length of his shaft. The erection had grown, as had mine, and each of us had an organ straining at the elastic of his pants. As James was unconscious I was surprised he was reacting, but more than pleased. Still anxious to continue now I had committed myself and had the chance, I pulled the elastic away from his waist, releasing the organ which rose into my hand. I pulled the waistband down, to expose more of it. Careless now, my hand continued exploring down, tracing the penis to its base.
I checked again that James was still not responding, except by his erection which seemed now to be at its fullest extent. Once again I put my arms at either side of his bottom so the underwear could slip down. This brought my face very close to the boy's manhood, and as I released his arms from underneath I let my lips rest on its tip for a moment. I brought my hand once again to James' testicles, and gently squeezed each one, exulting in the texture and warmth and lowness of them.
With a shock I suddenly I realised what I was doing. It was wrong! It was almost rape! How would I like it if someone did this to me? Another side of me kept saying that, if it were James doing it, I would not want him to stop. But common sense returned with a rush, and as if shocked by a high voltage I sat up, moved my hands away, and sat on the bed looking at my friend's inert body.
How would it be if I left him naked, and slept alongside him like that? I could tell James in the morning that I'd found him like that. Would he believe me? I thought so. So, once again, I put my arms around him, first around his shoulders to move them over, then his thighs. Then I thought for a moment, and removed my own underwear before climbing onto the bed alongside him. I pulled the duvet over us, turned out the light and tried to sleep. But for what seemed like ages sleep never came, so intense was the temptation to explore my sleeping partner's body again. But eventually the euphoria of desire, mingled with alcohol and natural tiredness, made me content with putting an arm around James as he lay there, and move as close to him as I could. I slept.
James had taken a great deal of liquid on board over the evening, and it was hardly surprising that he woke an hour later. I was sleeping lightly, despite the alcohol, and was aware of his movements under my arm which was over his shoulder. He eased the arm from him, and drew away before climbing over me out of bed. Quietly he started for the door, but must have been still rather giddy from the evening's excesses and stumbled. This gave me the chance to 'wake up' and see him swaying, still naked, in the middle of the floor.
"You okay?" I mumbled.
"Huh? Yeah. Got to go to the toilet."
He lurched forward again, nearly missing the door.
"D'you need a hand?"
"Dunno."
I prised myself upright, stood up, and crossed to where he was struggling with the sudden effort of being perpendicular on top of a brain full of unaccustomed alcohol. I put an arm under his shoulders and steered him toward the door. He fumbled for the catch, found it, and I was thankful that he remembered to pause to listen for sounds of movement anywhere else on the boat before venturing outside. With my support he stumbled around the corner toward the toilet. I kept him going in the right direction, then opened the toilet door, thankful that there was the shower room the other side of it to act as a buffer for any noise we might make.
I helped him in and paused. "D'you want me to stay?" I whispered doubtfully.
He must have been too anxious to relieve himself. "Yeah…Got to go."
He stepped forward and nearly fell. I reached for him to support him. Feeling now the fullness of my own bladder, I held my penis with my free hand and we both stood in front of the toilet together like young kids, relieving ourselves.
As the pressure on him eased, James relaxed, and he nearly failed in his aim. I'd finished, and was in time to turn him bodily, to avoid problems. "Be careful, James, or I'll take it and direct it for you!"
"Can if you want," mumbled James, now almost asleep again.
His stream had died down now, and there was no real danger of his missing, but I couldn't let a comment like that pass. I reached down and replaced James' hand on his penis with my own. The boy sagged against me, and I was glad that my other arm was still acting as a support for him.
To describe my thoughts, my emotions…Just imagine it for yourself. Someone you love has just told you that you can help them in an extremely intimate, physical way. You are being trusted. They are saying that you are a real friend. Can you imagine the warmth, the tingle of love, the way a part of you feels fulfilled?
At last James stopped. I shook the boy's penis once or twice, squeezed the end and shook again, then did the same for myself. We turned, and I half walked, half carried James back to the cabin, then eased him back onto the bed. Freed from the need to try and keep himself upright, James' level of consciousness improved slightly.
"Mmm……Martin?"
"Hullo?"
"Thanks. "
"That's what friends are for."
"Mmm."
I climbed in beside him. Suddenly, because of his obvious acceptance of what I'd just done for him I felt suddenly free of any hesitancy. "You okay?" I asked tenderly.
"Hmm. Mush better." And he turned on his side so we were face to face, then moved his body forward to touch mine. He put his arm around my chest, and was comforted when I did the same to him. His eyes opened, he smiled at me, then quickly kissed me on the lips. Before I could react, his head had receded into the pillow and his eyes closed. I looked at him for a moment, then bent over to him and once again after a five year gap, kissed his lips. To my relief, the kiss was returned. I put my own head on the pillow, my emotions in turmoil.