Rhythm

by

John Terry Moore
 

CHAPTER 26

The new academic year was about to get underway, and there had been a hive of activity at ‘Les Villas Peculiar’!  The location of the four units could not have been more convenient, backing up against the university boundary fence.  Wayne and Adam had sawn a gap in the fence and fitted a sturdy gate, whilst the Dean had magically found some funding to join the gateway to the network of bike and walking tracks within the university grounds.  They were all in and settled; and Philippe had moved into Adam and Patrick’s old quarters just 100 metres away at the boatsheds.  It was a great solution. 

Matthew’s children, Jonathan and Susan arrived the very day Darcy handed him the keys.  Matthew was already revelling in his new position; he had a university and its population to keep secure; quite a modest challenge in comparison to his previous national and international responsibilities, within the cumbersome structure of a government department.  The university was like family to him, particularly with Adam and Patrick and the Eight nearby.  Finally, he thought, ‘some peace at last and an opportunity to be a real father.’  He still felt guilt when he thought of his frequent absences from home; and how that must have impacted on the kids.  But, like many middle rank security personnel, he had an expectation that his former wife would have fulfilled the parenting role in his absence.  He was astounded when he finally realised she was just going through the motions of being a mother.  Granted she had some postnatal depression after Susan was born, but that had abated quickly.  He now realised that she was simply a girl who had given birth out of duty.  And he was amazed it had taken so long for him to understand her mindset.  Whilst he had seen the birth of his kids as the highlight of his life, and the responsibility of raising them to adulthood as the most important function of his existence, she obviously had not.  And now she had gone.  Reputedly in Buenos Aries with her Argentinean boyfriend.  The kids left with her parents in Sydney, who were hard people and similarly uncaring.  He had rescued them the week following Adam and Patrick’s wedding and taken them straight to Melbourne to his mum and dad, where at least they were loved and cared for.  Whilst in Melbourne he took his personal papers to the family solicitors there and arranged to sue for divorce immediately, citing the day she left the children with her parents as the date they separated.  In addition, he applied for sole custody of the children.  So twelve months and one day from that date he should be free to marry again, even though that was highly unlikely.  But it was the kids he had to be mindful of; that their upbringing could not be interrupted by trauma ever again.  He applied for special hardship leave from his work and it was granted, but resigned the following week when he accepted the Dean’s offer.  He couldn’t get out of Sydney quickly enough.  He held a garage sale and sold much of their joint belongings.  The remainder went into a container; the type of stuff that was generic to any house, and he shipped it to the university, hoping it would fit in his new accommodation. 

*****

With a small army of helpers, Matthew had unpacked the container and furnished his new home.  More compact than before, but this time surrounded by young gay men!  Great company and great friends!  He worried about both his kids however; Jon was at that difficult age of twelve; progressing through puberty, and Sue was nearly eleven; going on thirty!  In many ways she was more worldly than her brother; but in addition to all the normal pain of growing up, both of them, he realised, were struggling with the breakup of his marriage, and the loss of their family home.  And the need to be more careful with money.  This was the challenge ahead of him; to create a new family structure with just one parent and in the process, lift their spirits and return them to a well-balanced lifestyle with some enjoyment in their lives.  Nothing else mattered to him.  He knew he was probably obsessed by the kids, brought on by the guilt of not being there for them when they needed him the most.  But he had to try. 

*****

It was Philippe who first managed to make Jon and Susie smile.  He walked into their kitchen one Saturday morning unannounced; turned the music up, and began making breakfast.  The kids were gob-smacked.  How cool was this!  Someone with technicolour hair, screaming in French, and beating omelettes as if his life depended on it!  And the omelettes were really good!  Matthew struggled out of bed to the culinary mayhem and watched with amazement as his kids laughed for the first time in many months. 

“Ah, the Lord an’ Master has arisen,” yelled Philippe, planting a kiss on both cheeks.  Matthew flushed as the kids ‘took the piss’. 

“What are you all so amused at?” demanded Philippe.  “That is the way all French men an’ women greet each other.  So come ’ere little Jon boy an’ I show you.  And Miss Susie, you too!” 

Philippe demonstrated the greeting, noting with relief that Matthew wasn’t so embarrassed when his kids were included!  And it was Philippe who took them over to his ‘studio apartment’ as he called it and demonstrated his ‘art’ ----- changing the kids into smocks and encouraging them to be creative!  Philippe already had the beginnings of a career as a painter; he had two exhibitions locally and actually sold some stuff.  He and Darcy’s mum, Leticia were in contact regularly, and together they were a great ideas factory.  Matthew watched, open mouthed as his kids explored their creativity.  It was Jon who surprised him ----- Philippe said he had unlimited ability whilst poor Susie had none; but she enjoyed the colours whilst Jon created the structure! 

*****

Slowly but surely, Jon and Susie responded to their new environment, and to a routine which was both interesting and reinforced their confidence.  They had gone from a predominantly straight environment to being surrounded by young gay men and they thrived.  After just a few months they looked forward to the weekends; particularly Sundays.  They were out of bed by 7.30am and straight to Uncle Patrick and Adam for fresh juices and fruit, then to Uncle Darcy and Jacob for eggs, sausages and bacon,(a Jewish household?) and then to Uncle Angelo and Lance for home cooked pastries and coffee!  Before they were home, Philippe would join Matthew for coffee and they would plan the day for the kids.  “Why are you so good to us, Philippe?” said Matthew one Sunday morning in June. 

“I like the kids, I like you and if I do this I am not lonely,” he said to a stunned Matthew. 

“You’re lonely?” repeated Matthew, “But you seem to attract people to you like flies; boys, girls, students, all age groups in fact.” 

“I ’ave no satisfaction or patience from the young ones who are trying to bed me,” he smiled.  “In Paris, I ’ad a boyfriend; ’e was soixante deux ans; sorry, you say sixty-two-years old.  ’e have a heart attack an’ pass away.  I miss ’im very much; an’ I think I am still grieving for ’im.  That is why it is good for me to be in Australia to put this all behind me, you know?” 

“Oh Philippe,” said Matthew.  “I am so sorry, I had no idea.  But why were you attracted to someone so senior in years, was he the only one?” 

“Mais non,” smiled Philippe.  “I ’ave always liked older men, ever since I can remember.  My parents were furious with me, they are cool with me to be gay but they say I am ze trollop, for bringing home all ze old men!”  He rolled his eyes and Matthew laughed at the theatrics.  Philippe became serious, and Matthew allowed him to continue without interruption. 

“Is quite normal for gay boys to like men much older,” he grinned.  “There are bars and meeting places for us all around the world.  In every bar or sauna there are two or three of us for every ’undred who always look after the daddies!  Oh I ’ave a few little play times with Australian blokes, but they just want to ’ave sex quickly an’ leave; they do not understand ’ow to make love, Matt-Hew!” 

Matthew laughed at Philippe’s pronunciation of his name.  Rather than being annoyed, he felt it was just so ----- nice!  It felt very individual, and let’s face it, it was very Philippe!  In the immediate group, Matthew, Philippe and Peter from the Eight were the only three without permanent partners; and whilst the social side always saw them included, they all gave the couples the privacy they deserved.  Peter had gone back to live at home with his parents and play the field, which left Philippe as Matthew’s friend and helper with the kids.  Matthew finally realised that Philippe enjoyed the kids and they had a super bond with them so he relaxed.  Trust was automatic with Philippe because actions spoke louder than words.  His kids never had a chance to feel bored; Philippe organised expeditions to the museum, the zoo, art galleries, concerts, and there were the volley ball games that Jon liked and had become quite good at.  But the greatest pleasure of all was the farm.  Adam and Patrick went home every weekend, and the kids would have cheerfully ‘stowed away’ in the old Ford just to get themselves invited! 

*****

So it was the long weekend in June and there was a mass exodus from the university for a few days; most had study leave attached to the weekend so it was practically shut down for a week.  One of the pleasant by-products of Adam and Patrick’s partnership and university life, was the constant stream of visitors through the homestead.  Rather than being dismayed at the work involved, Mary Church was delighted.  It kept her in touch with the vast network that Adam and Patrick had created and provided some light and shade in farm life.  She and Tom were always aware of the debt they owed Matthew, and tried to repay him with country hospitality.  And they realised how much Jon and Susie loved the animals and everything to do with the farm, going out of their way to simply spend time with them.  Mary was fascinated with their progress.  They had changed from the timid, unhappy little creatures of six months ago to the point where they were quite gregarious, and full of life.  ‘At last they have something to look forward to,’ she thought.  And there was no doubt who was primarily responsible; ----- Philippe!  Much to everyone’s amazement!  It just seemed that Philippe had been in the right place at the right time.  Mary was glad that Philippe was training as an art teacher, because teaching was what he did best in life, and the children were such willing pupils.  He was also another lost soul who loved the farm and everything associated with it.  And he was such an important part of Adam and Patrick’s life; a reminder of the Olympics.  The children doted on him and looked for his participation in their lives every day.  He managed to cook many of their meals, iron their school shirts or stuff that Matthew couldn’t manage, and had enough time left to take them exploring at weekends when Matthew was working!  Yet Mary was terrified for Philippe.  She saw the telltale signs of unrequited love, she thought; she worried that Philippe might care too much for a straight man like Matthew who couldn’t reciprocate.  She told Tom, and he smiled away her worries. 

“Sherlock,” he laughed.  “You haven’t lost that ability to suss it all out, have you!  I agree with you, as usual, but you can’t worry about things that may or may not happen.  Nothing you can do love, except feed ’em, and love ’em!  They have to take responsibility for their own lives.” 

*****

The Ford rolled into the barn, the passenger door opened and Jack shot out like a bullet, cocking his leg and trying to growl at Barney all at once and being unsuccessful at both.  The horses began ‘talking’ and Patrick went over and fed them.  Just then, Matthew’s Commodore rolled down the driveway and into the barn in the adjoining space.  Jon and Susie shot out; Susie fed the horses a second time, and Jon, well trained by now, began lugging their cases towards the house.  It was still quite early in the evening; but this time of year in the southern hemisphere it was pitch dark at 5.30pm and chilly; the first days of winter.  Matthew started to relax; he’d had to do a lot of hard talking to get Philippe to join them this time, and it worried him.  He hoped he’d not said or done anything to upset him; he liked his friend too much for that and his care and love of the kids had been priceless.  But there was something bugging him, he knew; and he had to resolve it quickly.  Theirs was such a little group at ‘Les Villas’ and everyone had to get along to avoid spoiling what was a lovely living atmosphere and a great place to bring up the kids.  They had a simple but beautiful meal; chicken vegetable soup and an Irish stew; all from farm produce.  Then it was Patrick and Philippe who produced sweets; the Australian pavlova with fruit salad and cream, which they had concocted back at the university; just adding cream from the farm supplies.  Matthew looked on amazed.  Philippe never ceased to surprise him; for a full-time student with commitments of his own, he still managed to contribute many hours helping he and the children with domestic tasks and always made sure Tom and Mary Church knew that they appreciated their hospitality. 

And Matthew always brought along chocolates for Mary and sweets for Tom, and made sure the kids handed them over and understood why they were giving the gifts.  The Saturday was stormy; but there was work to be done on the farm.  There were some sheep penned in the woolshed overnight waiting for Adam.  Jon and Susie looked on in astonishment as Adam crutched them, cleaning off their bottoms with the shearing machine where they were dirty and then giving them their ‘medicine’ with a drenching gun down their throat.  There was a torrent of questions from the kids; but this time Patrick was able to supply most of the answers.  Adam grinned at him; it was like Patrick grew up on the land; he loved it with a passion and he spent a lot of time at weekends, joining in and working hard at whatever was going on at the time.  As he had always done, even before they were a couple, Adam realised.  Patrick and Tom were very close; the latest  ‘project’ they were jointly engaged in was a huge vegetable garden, and ‘their’ cabbages were ready right now.  And Brussels sprouts, potatoes, and turnips.  “All good for the wind,” laughed Tom, “particularly the cabbage and sprouts!” 

*****

Matthew had slept badly; this was the one place in his world he could sleep in and relax without worrying about the children, and yet he had tossed and turned all night.  He didn’t know why but guessed it was simply delayed reaction from the implosion of his marriage and the subsequent ‘rescue’ of his kids.  And the person who had helped him most to re-establish his life and particularly that of the kids, was in a huff with him; or at least it seemed that way.  He supposed it was Philippe’s European nature to be a little volatile, yet it worried him because when the pressure had been really apparent, he had been extraordinary.  Took on the kids like they were his own and obviously enjoyed the exercise.  Granted, Adam and Patrick were always on his case also, as were their family; and the trips to the farm were such a treat.  And the remainder of the ‘family’; Lance, Angelo, Darcy and Jacob, had all contributed.  But the kids, in only six months, looked on Philippe in quite a different way; more like another parent, and a bloody good one he had to admit.  Matthew could see Jon and Susie’s confidence growing; their personalities had bloomed; and they were doing very well at school.  They obviously enjoyed having a bevy of gay men around them and the interaction between them all was a great learning experience in itself. 

Will and Maurie arrived; driving their Toyota SUV rather than risk their old Mercedes in such foul weather.  And they also brought a change of clothes with the intention of staying the night because “it was drinking weather,” as Will said. 

Adam and Patrick, with Matthew and Philippe, Jon and Susie and the dogs walked the ewes and lambs into a more sheltered paddock with some light bushland because snow was forecast in the hills by morning. 

By the time they had returned it was ‘cocktail hour’; somewhat of a tradition on Saturday nights at the farm when all the work was done and it was too dark and cold to do anything else.  The adults each had to prepare a cocktail of their choice; of sufficient quantity so everyone had a sample.  Matthew made the mistake of having a second martini, and his world went downhill from there.  Mary Church, with Maurie’s help, had created a buffet dinner, and Tom had some nice reds alongside.  Matthew ate well but couldn’t resist an extra glass of claret.  He excused himself after the meal and walked out on to the veranda, sitting quietly in the old swinging seat near the back door.  His head felt a little woozy and it was freezing cold.  He was just about to leave when Philippe walked around the corner with his coat. 

“Thought you might need this, mon ami,” he said.  He sat next to Matthew, both of them aware they were keeping each other warm.  From an inner pocket in his coat Matthew pulled a small package. 

“Want some?” he asked.  Philippe nodded; pointing to the barn. 

“Not ’ere,” away from the ’ouse.  They will smell it otherwise an’ we will be in trouble with Adam and Patrick.” 

Matthew took a huge hit and nearly spun out. 

“Good stuff,” he grinned, handing it to Philippe.  “Your turn.” 

They finished the joint in amiable silence, enjoying the naughtiness of it all.  Philippe led Matthew back to the swinging seat again; and he slumped down, obviously the worse for wear.  Equally obvious was his complete lack of inhibition, as he teased Philippe. 

“So, waddya reckon, do I turn you on like your poor sixty-two-year old late boyfriend?” 

“Oh Matt-Hew,” Philippe laughed, “there is no comparison.” 

“Why?  Am I that bad?” 

“No, you silly man, you are that beautiful, no one, dead or alive could ever be as ’andsome as you.” 

Matthew’s mouth fell open, and he felt there was a good chance he would never close it again. 

“Me?” he croaked.  “Are you mad?  Who would ever want me, a has-been in his mid-thirties, going quickly to seed with no real career except a job that he likes.”  “With two beautiful children, a support group that loves you, and with someone ’ere who wants always to make love to you?” 

“But I’m straight, Philippe!  You know that”.  

“Since when ’as that been an issue around ’ere?” Philippe grinned.  “Or at the university!” 

Matthew had to laugh at him.  “I suppose you’re right, but I’m nearly old enough to be your father!” 

“Sometimes I think you are having shit for brains, Matt-Hew.  The older you get, the better I like it!  So when you are seventy I am around fifty-seven.  You are a little tired by then but I will still ’ave the good sex drive, mais oui?” 

“Philippe,” said Matthew, slurring his words just a little.  “Come over here.” He patted the seat alongside him.  The night seemed warmer, as it often did before snow. 

“I love you for all your kindness to me and the kids, but you have to know that’s all I can offer you, seriously.” 

Philippe’s eyes sparkled in the lights from the house.  He leaned across and kissed an astonished Matthew on the lips.  Matthew sat there, the rather pleasing scent of Philippe hanging in the air around him.  The very distinctive eau de toilette that he used.  He looked at Philippe, who had moved closer, leaning in to his face, somehow completely covering his lips and then with a wicked feathering of his tongue, pushed his way inside his mouth!  He felt himself stir in his shorts, but after all, he’d been celibate for nearly twelve months, so any human attention was welcome. 

“We go inside now,” whispered Philippe, “but I come to your room later.  If you do not want me, jus’ lock the door an’ I go away.  Leave it open an’ I will make love to you.” 

Before Matthew could respond, he pecked him on the lips again and disappeared inside. 

The cocktail party had taken its toll.  Will was watching a concert on television with bleary eyes, whilst Maurie snored.  Tom and Mary kissed everyone good night and went to bed.  Adam and Patrick were the brightest of all, and had been playing ‘Kings in a Corner’ their favourite card game on one end of the dining table.  Jon and Susie had run themselves out and were also abed.  Matthew looked in on them and then decided he would also have an early night.  He kissed everyone good night, (even Maurie who woke up temporarily) and made his way towards bed.  Stripping off, he wrapped the dressing gown around himself that Mary thoughtfully supplied and stepped under the shower.  It revived him somewhat and he noticed with amusement that his cock had remained half-hard.  He was about to take care of himself when there was a knock at the bathroom door.  He quickly dried himself off and found Patrick on the other side of the door. 

“Sorry Mother,” he grinned, “had to make sure my box was clean and powdered.”  “Then I’m truly fortunate I didn’t have to wait all night,” came the rapier-like response. 

“Oh you are such a bloody bitch,” he laughed, almost sober again, and decided to leave the conversation where it was, rather than compete with Patrick’s wit.  But he had to have one more try.  In the sweetest, most concerned voice he looked Patrick in the eye and said,

“You have to start looking after yourself, dear.” 

“Oh, why?” Patrick replied, arching his eyebrows. 

“You’re flyin’ from one thing to another, all over the place.  You’d better make sure you park your broom in the cupboard tonight to give yourself a rest!” 

Patrick broke up.  “I think you’ve been living around queens too long,” he laughed.  “You’re worse than any of us!” 

“I’ve certainly had some good teachers.”  Matthew staggered off to his bedroom, laughing, peeling off his gown and falling into bed.  Just before he closed his eyes, he remembered the door and Philippe’s instructions.  ‘Cunning little bugger,’ he thought, ‘he knows these old houses never have locks on the internal doors!  Ah well, he won’t remember anyway, we were too pissed.’ 

He was about to close his eyes again when the handle turned noiselessly and Philippe padded in.  His smile was in brilliant contrast to his dark skin; the only part of him clearly identified in the moonlight.  In a heartbeat he was beside the bed; his robe falling to his feet.  Matthew had a momentary view of him; his hair had grown longer; very long on top but shorter on the sides like a mullet.  Many of the trademark piercings had gone; and his torso was now lightly muscled, thanks to some work in the university gym.  Matthew was about to protest but it was too late, and anyway, he was mesmerised by the moment.  As he watched, Philippe slid in gracefully beside him, bare skin making contact all the way down, stoping only when their faces met.  Matthew felt he should try to stop whatever was about to happen because it was so pleasurable.  But he felt completely powerless as Philippe kissed his way all over him, eventually taking him in his mouth.  Philippe’s mind was in overdrive.  He had finally verbalised something of what he felt for Matthew, but he held something in reserve.  Straight guys were good sex but the world was hard and cruel if they didn’t return your feelings for them.  He was overcome by Matthew’s maleness; the hairy chest with the upper limits curling around the base of his throat.  Hot!  He ran his fingers through the hair; tweaking his nipples hiding there.  Matthew yelped with pleasure confirming Philippe hadn’t lost his touch.  Realising he was on sensory overload; Matthew gave up, laid back and enjoyed the sensations that were overwhelming him.  Philippe’s tongue swept around his testicles, and he nearly shouted with pleasure.  Then he felt his mouth encircle him again and it was too much. 

“Look out,” he hissed, “I’m coming,” and erupted, Philippe catching the lot.  Philippe produced a towel from nowhere and cleaned them up.  ‘So many new things, new sensations,’ Matthew thought to himself.  ‘But I’m still straight,’ he told himself. 

Philippe rolled over smiling.  “So my beautiful straight man, how you enjoy your introduction to gay sex?”  There were too many conflicting sensations running through Matthew’s mind, to give him a sensible answer.  But he suddenly felt very vulnerable. 

“Don’t go,” he whispered, “please stay.” 

“I can assure you Matt-Hew that I am not going anywhere, so turn over an’ I cuddle you.” 

What must have been a few hours later, Matthew awoke to find by now a somewhat familiar presence making love to his penis.  His head had cleared a little and there was some water in a glass on the bedside table.  Philippe nodded and handed it to him and he drank greedily. 

“You think of everything,” he remarked.  He was just about to suggest Philippe return to his own bed when he just smiled at him in a dreamy way and found his now very distended penis once again.  The bedside lamp was on and Matthew found himself drawn to Philippe’s cock.  It was a thing of beauty, Matthew decided; bent in the opposite direction to his, uncircumcised, where he was the opposite, but the dominant feature of his body.  He touched it without really knowing what he was doing, thinking he should try to give Philippe some pleasure in return.  Within a split second Philippe had reversed around and Matthew found he was in the classic 69 position. 

‘How did I get here?’ his poor brain screamed, as he gave way to lust once again and they came within a few seconds of each other.  Still later, he woke again to find Philippe’s cock in his face again, and peeling back the foreskin, he ran his tongue over the head and this time, took all of him down his throat.  Again they came within milliseconds of each other, wearily cleaned up the surplus and fell asleep like the dead. 

Philippe’s watch alarm shrilled and he sprang out of bed.  “What time is it?” he asked, bleary eyed. 

“Six-thirty,” smiled Philippe.  “I think I go back to my bed now ----- the children, you know?” 

Matthew nodded his understanding and Philippe kissed him on the forehead, before quietly disappearing out the door.  Matthew just lay there, a mixture of emotions running around his head.  ‘Did I imagine all of that?’ he thought.  He knew the train of events was correct but blamed the dope because he had no will power.  ‘What was worse,’ he thought, ‘was that he had probably led Philippe on; given him some hope that they could be more than friends.  But he had enjoyed it, hadn’t he?’  He tried to block out all the feelings and just concentrate on the kids.  They needed a proper example and this was hardly the way to demonstrate example!  Or was it?  After all, Philippe was a good person, he was a wonderful help in raising Jon and Susie, and what was a little play around in the sack?  Didn’t matter, did it?  He held his head and groaned.  Here he was, with more questions than answers and the hangover he thought he had avoided had come back to haunt him.  He felt unhappy and depressed.  Bloody Margot, why did she have to piss off?  He fell back on the pillows and thought.  His former wife was good in the sack, but she was hopeless at everything else, including raising children.  He knew he had made enormous progress with the kids; they had responded so well to the gay couples around them learning tolerance, manners and thoughtfulness.  Even his own mum and dad had commented on the fact with admiration.  So why was his world suddenly upside down?  ‘Well, sorry Philippe,’ he thought, you’ve just reminded me that I am indeed a straight man and I haven’t had sex with anyone for a bloody long time.  ‘So,’ he thought, ‘I’ll have to get my dick out of mothballs this week and get going again!’ 

*****

They left about 10.30am on the Monday, as Adam and Patrick were going up country on field work for about two days.  Matthew was quiet and Philippe guessed why.  It was obvious Matthew had enjoyed himself in bed on Saturday night and that the guilt trip had caused him to jam his bedroom door shut on Sunday night.  It was also possible that Matthew didn’t want to promise something he couldn’t deliver in the long-term, and that he was trying to preserve a friendship by not intentionally causing him any hurt.  ‘Fair enough,’ thought Philippe, ‘but we must not do anything to upset the children.  They are so precious.’  His eyes grew damp as he looked at them in the rear seat of the car.  ‘I must be strong and ’elp them,’ he decided, ‘then when I go back to France at the end of my course, they will be much more grown up and able to look after themselves better.’ 

They arrived home just before 1.00pm and he quickly threw some washing into the machine with instructions to the children to hang them out so they would dry by morning.  He went home, threw himself on the bed and immediately fell asleep, exhausted.  He heard the front door open and rolled over, knowing it was the children because they had a key.  Jon’s cheerful face appeared. 

“You coming over?” he said. 

“No sweetheart,” responded Philippe, “I’m not very ’ungry.” 

“But I’ve cooked hamburgers, eggs and chips, and dad’s working tonight.”  “What, ’e leave you by yourselves?” snapped Philippe. 

“Oh, no,” said Jon vaguely.  “He asked Uncle Angelo and Uncle Lance to keep an eye on us.” 

“So what’s Susie doing?” asked Philippe. 

“Oh she’s looking after the hamburgers,” said Jon.  Their eyes met and they sprinted for the door.  The kitchen was full of smoke as Susie blissfully watched a soapie; totally oblivious to the cremation occurring in the electric frypan.  They opened the windows and doors and the smoke soon cleared.  The shrieking of the smoke detectors brought Angelo and Lance running and they apologised for not keeping a closer watch on the kids and their culinary masterpieces.  Lance’s eyes narrowed. 

“He didn’t say he wanted them baby-sat, otherwise we would have fed them.”  Angelo nodded. 

“I know,” said Philippe.  “I am very sorry.  I fix them something now.”  He shepherded the children inside, waving his thanks. 

“I think there might be trouble in paradise, darlin’ what do you think?” said Lance, grimly.  Angelo looked after the retreating figures of Philippe and the children and nodded his agreement. 

“Philippe and Matthew have done a great job of those little ones; what a shame their own friendship seems to be coming apart,” Angelo observed.  Lance pursed his lips, the way he did when he was deep in thought. 

“This could be just a stage they’re goin’ through, you know, Ange.  In fact Patrick has a fifty-dollar bet with Adam that they’ll be a couple before Christmas.”  Angelo laughed.  “Jesus, some of you guys are bloody romantics!  There’s no doubt Matthew is straight!  I’ve watched him undressing some of the ladies on uni staff with his eyes!  He’s a ladies’ man, darlin’! 

“Yeah, like I was!” came the sharp retort.  “And Darcy and Jacob!  And Adam initially!” 

“Yeah, I know,” said Angelo gently, “but Lance, this guy is around thirty-five-years old!  With two kids!  With no history of or the slightest inclination towards same-sex attraction, even though he’s surrounded by a pack of queens these days!”  Lance laughed and encircled Angelo with his huge arms, and Angelo felt his legs go weak as Lance cuddled him like a baby.  Lance spoke softly again. 

“Darlin’, do I have to remind you about us?” he smiled.  “We fell in love and somehow the sex part which started out as being important, became quite secondary to our feelings for each other.  The sex is important, alright, but as long as you’re compatible that way, it doesn’t seem to drive partnerships anymore!  I’ve seen Matthew and Philippe looking at each other in the past few months, and I’d swear there was a lot more than domestic issues or plain friendship involved.” 

“Well I have to agree that Philippe is probably attracted to Matthew and that’s what’s caused their little upset,” Angelo concurred.  “But that still doesn’t make Matthew gay.” 

“Does it matter whether you’re gay or not?  Does it matter if their partner is a girl or a boy if they love each other and they’re sexually compatible?”  Lance grinned at Angelo who had grown more serious and looked like he was tripping down memory lane. 

“No, you’re right, of course.  One hundred per cent.  Let’s hope they sort it out, but we all need to look out for Jon and Susie even more and help Philippe where we can.” 

*****

Matthew couldn’t seem to lift himself out of the downer he found himself in yet again.  He knew he was drinking too much and he was having trouble sleeping.  All because he and Philippe had a variance of opinion some weeks ago.  Not a disagreement, no anger involved, just a need to cool the atmosphere between them.  Because he didn’t want to hurt Philippe’s feelings and he knew Philippe was trying to distance himself for that very same reason.  But in the process, he had lost his best friend, and that to him was unacceptable.  Someone to have a coffee with or a glass of wine, and someone who took a genuine interest in his children.  And to Philippe’s great credit, that interest and support was still there; even to the point where they had ‘family’ days out together.  But no more private time for he and Philippe.  He missed that, almost grieved for it.  And didn’t know how to fix it.  Because, looking back, he had enjoyed that night with him in the sack, he had to admit that much.  So much so, he really began to worry about his own sexuality.  It had been his first experience with a man, although he had many boisterous gropes and feel ups with Adam and Patrick, which never went anywhere because he had too much respect for them as a couple.  But it certainly could have, he realised, because they seemed to draw out a surprisingly feminine side to his nature that he really hadn’t noticed before. 

At last he had been able to get away; Philippe had gone to Sydney for a weekend as part of his art studies, visiting galleries.  Darcy and Jacob would look after the kids for the Saturday night and Lance and Angelo would help feed them on Sunday morning and Sunday lunch.  In fact he knew their little sides would be bursting!  He headed up the highway; his depression evaporating somewhat.  He was as horny as hell, and looked forward to an evening of debauchery.  He arrived at his destination; ‘Club 159’ which was licensed and very clean, and in a good suburb.  The security man in him checked for cameras and he found one.  Satisfied it was for troublemakers, and covering the exit, he relaxed. 

He’d made the initial contact online and was pleasantly surprised to find that it delivered in every area.  The girls were well spoken, had nice manners and weren’t pushy.  He chose Samantha, and she led him upstairs to a comfortable bedroom. 

“Get yourself undressed and perhaps you’d like a shower,” she suggested with a smile that said, ‘I’m not touching you unless you do!’  He dried himself off and lay back on the bed, feeling at peace with the world.  Samantha walked over to the bed, putting her hand through the gap in his dressing gown and touched him.  Little Matthew refused to move, no matter what (call me Sam), did or he did.  All this way, all this trouble and money and he couldn’t raise a gallop!  Not even a twinge!  Nothing!  He looked so dejected that Sam laughed at him. 

“Look honey,” she said, “this happens all the time.  Don’t stress about it!  I’ll reverse the charge on your credit card and you can go home to your wife.” 

He shook his head and mumbled ‘no wife,’ and then told her the story.  How she had departed and left him to bring his kids up.  How he had fled Sydney to give them all a fresh start.  Sam looked at him strangely. 

“Mate,” she said, “it’s no big deal because as I said, this is very common.  But there’s something else with you, isn’t there?  Trying to prove something, perhaps?” 

Matthew’s head snapped up, trying to deny it, but Samantha was too quick for him. 

“There’s someone you’re in love with, isn’t there?” 

“I don’t know,” he said miserably, “he ----” and it was out. 

“So,” she said, “you’re keen on a fella, aren’t you?” 

He nodded, feeling like shit. 

“Darling,” she said gently, “I actually own this place, and occasionally I help out when things get a bit busy.  My partner knows, and she’s really cool about it.”  “She?” 

“Yes,” responded Sam.  “We’ve been together over twenty years.  I reckon there are at least two guys a week in your position, and probably ten or fifteen more who aren’t as honest with themselves as you are.  So go and find him, quickly, before anyone else gets to him and tell him you love him.  You might be surprised at the result.” 

Matthew found himself stammering and thanked her, dressing quickly and walking quickly to his car.  Was he really in denial?  Couldn’t be!  ‘Only one way to find out’, he thought as he rang his parents, asking for a bed for the night. 

He rang Philippe in Sydney and offered to meet him at the airport, and he agreed with enthusiasm, a saving in commuting time of at least an hour. 

*****

Matthew had to admit he felt better the moment he saw him. 

Loaded up with laptop, suit sack and a large, thin vinyl covered bag containing a selection of his paintings, he smiled broadly and Matthew felt his heart thumping against his rib cage. 

They chatted cheerily on the way home, quite relaxed in each other’s company for once.  Matthew drove into his carport; there was no sign of the kids or Lance, Angelo, Darcy or Jacob, so obviously they had all gone out for the afternoon. 

He let his forehead rest on the steering wheel and spoke slowly. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been a dickhead, but we both know why don’t we?”  Philippe nodded his head. 

“Jesus, Philippe, I know this sounds like I’m using you, but I’m not.  Not really.  But I need a fuck really badly.  Really, really badly.”  Philippe looked at him without expression. 

“My place, now, before the kids come ’ome.” 

They almost ran along the path, Philippe opening the door with a twist of a key and a push, with Matthew nearly falling on top of him.  Within seconds they were on the bed, lips and mouths pressed together.  Suddenly Matthew was aware that little Matthew had decided to leave the dole queue and join the employed again!  So much so that he had to leave off kissing Philippe and loosen his belt to relieve the pressure.  He stared down at his most prized possession, a traitor with the ladies, yet with Philippe he seemed to know exactly what to do!  Philippe’s hand stroked him and he focussed on the task of the moment. 

“Matt-Hew,” smiled Philippe.  “I need you to go to the bathroom and use the equipment there.” 

Matthew looked puzzled; he had a shower this morning and used under arm deodorant, and knew he wasn’t smelly! 

“All boys ’aving sex should use colonic irrigation; it is available everywhere in Europe, Asia an’ many places ’ere as well, including your units. 

“I wondered what that thing was for,” he said.  ‘How do I use it?” 

“You push the nozzle right into your bottom, then pull ze trigger.  Fill yourself up with water.  Then push down an’ clean the bowel.  Do it twice at least.” 

Like a dutiful student, Matthew discovered colonic irrigation for himself and understood how this would prepare a person for insertive sex.  His eyes widened when the full implication hit him!  ‘Christ I’m dumb,’ he thought, ‘no way am I getting fucked!’ 

After another shower he walked back into the bedroom.  He was just about to ‘protest in the strongest terms’ when Philippe passed him on the way to the bathroom.  ‘Perhaps he just wanted us both super-clean,’ he smiled to himself.  He lay back on the bed, gently stroking his disobedient pride and joy.  He had his answer already, or partly so, he realised.  For some reason, women did nothing for him at the moment, and Philippe did.  But not other blokes, just Philippe.  His mental wandering ceased as Philippe re-entered the bedroom.  Every nerve in his body screamed for attention from Philippe.  He had a sudden premonition that his life would never quite be the same again.  Ever.  Yet he didn’t panic because curiosity held him ready for what lay ahead.  But there was something else in all of this that fascinated him.  Something that he had never really felt for another human being, including his ex-wife.  The depth of feeling he had for Philippe was beginning to assert itself, he reckoned, Samantha at the brothel had been spot on.  But how would the kids handle all of this?  He was worrying about these peripheral issues when his world literally turned upside down. 

Philippe’s arms lifted his legs over his head and his tongue flew into that part of his body where no one had ever been before!  He screamed with a mixture of pleasure and fright; but the pleasurable sensations won out.  He stared at the crooked smile and the downward bent cock and the nice muscles and he knew he was gone.  He would do anything, anything at all for him.  And if that meant that he was going to get himself fucked, so be it!  There was no doubt Philippe knew what he was doing.  Matthew had heard about European men and their sophistication; how they pleasured their lovers and treated the exercise as a work of art.  But nothing really prepared him for what was happening to him right now.  Nothing.  Philippe found every nook and cranny that had nerve endings and made them all sing together.  Matthew felt his temperature rise and his whole body tingled with the assault on it.  He tried to respond and was quite successful, if some of the affirmative grunts from Philippe were any indication.  Finally Philippe worked his way down towards his ‘nether regions’ and he knew he wanted it.  Because at this stage he was prepared to beg for it.  He just wanted Philippe to fuck him, it was that simple, now.  Panting, he demanded it, and Philippe gently worked his fingers into that precious space, then his tongue, so he was loosened and ready.  He felt him at the entrance and smiled his agreement. 

“Jus’ push down,” he instructed, and Matthew did so.  In a few seconds, Philippe was inside him, smoothly and progressively he slid into him and Matthew felt full of him.  He wanted to cry, the feeling was so overwhelming.  Time just ran away, as Philippe took him on a journey that he knew he would never forget.  Somehow the old Australian expression of ‘being well fucked’ had real meaning, but not in a derogatory way.  It was a feeling of giving your most precious possession to someone else and the fulfilment in that act was something he had never expected.  Eventually, after their lips were nearly kissed raw and all points south were nearly on fire, they came together with a roar.  Finally after months of self–torture, Matthew felt at peace.  He knew what he wanted and also that he would not give in until he had achieved what he wanted.  They lay in each other’s arms for a few minutes, nearly slipping off to sleep, until Philippe reminded him that the children would probably be home soon. 

Matthew showered again and kissed Philippe before leaving. 

“You coming over for dinner?” he asked.  Philippe was stone-faced and non-committal. 

“Non,” he said.  “I think not.  I ’ave work to do.” 

The kids arrived home and Matthew thanked the boys for being such good ‘uncles’ in his absence.  No one was very hungry; he made toasted sandwiches for the kids, but not before they had checked on Philippe. 

“Philippe not coming over?” he asked.  Jon looked at him strangely as if he should know all the answers, and he just shrugged his shoulders. 

“Said he was tired and that you would understand,” he replied. 

“But we really wanted him to come over,” said Susan, “and he wouldn’t come,” she wailed.  “Doesn’t he love us anymore?” she sobbed.  Matthew’s heart skipped a beat; the mixture of guilt and the reality that maybe Philippe couldn’t cope with their love-making was almost too much for him.  But he had to reassure them. 

“Of course he loves you, Susie, it’s just he’s probably tired out from his trip to Sydney.”  There was no more said but he knew they didn’t buy his explanation.  He had to do something fast.  Not just for himself, but for the kids who probably loved Philippe more than they loved him, their own bloody father! 

*****

It was a bad week.  He was fucking up royally at work because he simply couldn’t concentrate.  He finally had to level with the Dean, and blurted it all out. 

“Well, she said, “I think you should talk to someone who can help you through the temporary unhappiness you find yourself in.  And Matthew,” she smiled, “don’t ever feel you’re the first person to be in this situation.  I actually think you should allow your children to have their say.  They’re often more direct and effective than we could ever be, you know.  And often with more wisdom.” 

Finally, the week worked itself out.  Philippe managed to avoid him almost totally, despite many efforts to reach him.  It was painfully obvious that Philippe was in one place and he was in another.  He simply didn’t know what to do to advance his case any further.  He had prepared however; the security man in him trying to think ahead.  He had sought out Alain Le Maitre and his partner Kenneth Osborne, both originally Americans and the founders of the International Centre for Human Partnerships.  Alain, now retired, was formerly the Head of Languages at the university.  A wealthy couple, they had adopted five orphans from China, and raised them in a huge old home nearby, a former student hostel.  They welcomed Matthew and were very helpful.  With some simple advice.  And it also helped that Alain’s first language was French.  And that they shared many contacts in government circles, which was always useful at a time like this. 

*****

Matthew was sitting at the kitchen bench the following Saturday morning when his son spoke up. 

“Dad, what’s goin’ on?” complained Jon.  “Every time we try to talk to Philippe, he starts crying.  And you’re not happy either.  So have you two had a row or something?” 

“Yes,” said Susan, “everyone’s upset, just like when mummy left us.  Have we done anything wrong?” 

“No darling, of course not!  I’m so proud of you two; you are the greatest kids a bloke could ever have.”  He sighed in desperation, both for his children’s feelings and his own.  Then he made a decision that in hindsight was the smartest thing he had ever done; it just didn’t seem so at the time. 

“Come and sit down at the table,” he said quietly.  “I need to tell you what’s going on, because it may affect all our lives in the future.” 

He pulled no punches; he simply told his kids the truth and hoped they had the maturity to understand. 

And judging by the type of questions they were asking, they did! 

“So he thinks you’re not serious, dad, is that why he won’t open the door for you?”  Matthew nodded at his very focussed and now thirteen-year–old, who had matured with lightning speed, thanks to Philippe building up his confidence.  “Yes, mate, that’s one of the problems.  He doesn’t realise that I’m prepared to be very serious.  He simply won’t stop and listen to me, and I’m nearly out of my mind.  I only need five minutes and I know I can win him over.”

Susan looked at her brother.  This could be great fun; except for that lovers kissing rubbish!  Yuk!  But she missed Philippe; he was interested in all her little feminine things, and this situation their little family found themselves in was awful. 

“He’ll open the door for us,” she said to her brother. 

Jon nodded his head vigorously.  “Dad,” he said, “why don’t you park the car further down the street?”  Matthew looked strangely at his son. 

“Just do it dad,” he said, “then it looks like you’re not home.”  He did as he was told and returned inside. 

“Now,” directed Jon, “into the bedroom, dad,” he said.  “Do I have to spell it out?”  Matthew had to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.  Things couldn’t get any worse, so why not go along with them! 

He was sitting on the end of his bed, out of sight, (at Jon’s instructions), when he heard the noise.  He quickly peeped through the curtains to see a harassed looking Philippe talking with his hands, arguing with two determined children.  Susie had a look on her face like a thundercloud, and Jon, well Jon was obviously determined, to say the least!  He was carrying Philippe’s overnight bag and Susie had some shirts and a trousers on a hanger!  Philippe had his dressing gown and some shoes, and was clearly losing the battle.  With a shrug of his shoulders, he followed the children, the fight over for the moment. 

“Now you’re sleeping in dad’s room, tonight,” said Jon with authority. 

“No I am not, I will use the couch!” 

It was Susie who stacked on the turn that was the deal-breaker. 

“Philippe, you are to sleep in there tonight, because you fart, you snore and after our story time, we do not need to be woken up again.  And dad’s sheets need to be washed tomorrow anyway.” 

The door swung open, and he was framed in the sunlight, ‘as beautiful as ever,’ thought Matthew.  Just as Philippe’s eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness of the room, and realised Matthew was sitting there, the door quickly slammed behind him, the key turning in the lock! 

“Now listen, you two!” roared Jon through the timber door in a voice that could be clearly heard some kilometres away.  “Sort yourselves out because Susie and I are going to divorce you both as parents unless you can sit down and talk to each other!  We’ll be back in half an hour to check on you!” 

They looked at each other and then laughed at the absurdity of it all. 

“I promise, I had very little to do with this;” said Matthew quickly before Philippe could say anything. 

“I know,” he said, “but they ’ad me fooled as well!  Told me you ’ad to go to Melbourne suddenly and could I come over an’ stay the night with them!  They knew I wouldn’t leave them alone, but they wanted me to come over now!  Bullied me until I dropped everything and came over!” 

“What were you doing, anything important?” 

“Non, nothing, just being silly and sitting around.” 

“Like me,” responded Matthew, “and feeling like shit.” 

Philippe smiled briefly and then laughed again.  “Where did they get this idea of divorce?” 

“Who would know?” Matthew laughed, “but I must say they’ve both grown up so much lately, particularly Jon.”  The atmosphere had improved, no doubt about it, and Matthew judged it was now or never. 

“Philippe,” he said, “can you please listen to what I have to say for a minute, because it’s important.”  Philippe sighed, spread his hands in a gesture of Gallic acceptance, shrugged his shoulders and looked Matthew in the eye. 

“Last Sunday, I was out of line, I know.  I wanted sex and I wanted to prove something.  We started out having sex but we ended up making love.  I have never experienced anything like that in my life.” Matthew continued, in a whisper,  “I have had sex with many people, but I realise I have only ever made love with one person in all my life and that was you.  The intensity of it shocked me, and I think it had a similar effect on you.” 

“Oui,” said Philippe, his face impassive. 

Matthew continued.  “But it also forced me to make a decision about the future and I hope you agree with me.”  He drew in his breath, took hold of Philippe’s hand and stared back at the little Frenchman. 

“Je t’aime.”

“Oh Matt--- Hew,” he grinned, obviously pleased that Matthew had taken the trouble to learn a few phrases of French on his behalf. 

“Matt-Hew that is very old French; it is only used in ze most intimate of relationships.  It is how you say, ‘over the top,’ like Romeo and Juliet!  Only used when the two people involved would die for each other to prove their love.” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” said Matthew eagerly, “that’s exactly the way I feel about you!  Completely and absolutely.” 

Philippe’s mouth fell open whilst he processed the information. 

“You feel that way ’bout me?’’  Matthew grinned and nodded happily. 

“Then I understand,” he replied.  “I am a little shocked but I now understand, because as you know, I also feel very deeply ’bout you; that is why I ’ave been keeping away.  But Matt-Hew,” he cried.  “I ’ave to go back to France at the end of next year, because the Immigration people they already check up on me!  It is not so easy to stay on ’ere in Australia as it was!” 

Matthew’s shoulders dropped, realising how a simple misunderstanding in communication had created such turmoil. 

“Darling, don’t you realise that with all the contacts I have with government, and those that the university has, not to mention the relationship that Adam and Patrick have with the most senior politicians in the country, that you simply don’t have a problem in that regard?” 

Philippe smiled, but still looked apprehensive. 

“Anyway, I have a little gift for you.  This belonged to my late Grandpa.  I’ve had it in my possession since he passed on a few years ago.  I rang dad last night and he agreed it should go to you; ‘most appropriate’ was what he said.”  Matthew pulled a small tissue wrapped object from his pocket, presenting it to Philippe who stripped away the paper.  It was a very heavy but beautifully shaped ring with a large P in a very Gothic looking script, set in the middle of the band on a raised section.  Philippe’s eyes grew so large they looked like they would pop out of his head!  Matthew slid it on his finger. 

“Grandpa’s name was actually Peter, but he was a very kindly bloke, and I know he would love you to have it, just like my dad does.  So you see darling,” said Matthew, “there would be no questions from Immigration at all if you were married to an Australian citizen!  That is if you wanted to be absolutely sure about staying here.  Even becoming an Australian citizen yourself.  It gives us about seven months or so to practise,” Matthew grinned.  “Do you think you can handle that?” 

There was a tapping at the door, and Philippe finally found his voice. 

“You can come in, mes enfants,” he smiled.  The key turned in the lock and two heads looked through the aperture. 

“It is all right,” smiled Philippe.  “I will not run away.  I think I am ’ere for some time to come.  If your Papa makes eighty-five, then I will not be leaving for about fifty years or so.  Is that OK with you, oui?” 

He turned to Matthew.  “Je t’aime, my beautiful man; I am sorry I cause you so much pain over nothing.  But we will be ’appy, won’t we Matt-Hew?  We already ’ave our kids, an’ we don’ need anymore.  Non.  We ’ave enough.”  He kissed Matthew, a long lingering kiss, full of meaning. 

“Cool,” said Jon. 

“Yuk!” said Susan, but both of them with the biggest smiles on their faces. 

*****

The entertainment area at the units was shared common ground in the middle of the complex.  It contained an electric barbeque, a few tables and chairs and they had all contributed effort and energy to clean it up so it could be enjoyed by all, particularly together as a group.  To one side was an old brass ship’s bell on a stand, firmly bolted to the brickwork of the structure.  It was used to ‘summon’ everyone for mutual celebrations or individual celebrations or indeed celebrations for no reason at all. 

“Why don’t you guys ring the bell?” smiled Matthew.  “I think we have something to celebrate!” 

Jon and Susie tore over and started beating the bell; with all parties of ‘Les Villas Peculiar’ running outside, instantly understanding the reason for the celebration.  Calls went out to the closest of the group and they were all there inside two hours, pumped up and ready to party!  A Saturday night and suddenly plans changed, apologies were made in other places and they were there!  Because Matthew and Philippe had finally got it all together!  The remainder of the Eight arrived; Peter Finche arrived with a stunning looking ‘friend with benefits’, who proceeded to get pissed and make passes at everyone, including the guests of honour!  Then Richard arrived with the lovely Stephanie, totally relaxed amongst the queens, then Andrew and Amanda (call me Mandy), who was not relaxed with anyone or anything and seemed on a different wavelength to everyone else.  Then Stephen Wu with his new and very pregnant wife, Annette who was exhibiting withdrawal symptoms because she didn’t have a slot machine in front of her!  Michael and Marian Mitchell turned up, as did the Dean.  She had started her evening well; there was no doubt she had managed to fortify herself with a few Ballantine’s before arriving.  No one had seen her so animated since the Olympics; her working days as the CEO of the university had been truly arduous, and now she was hell-bent on relaxing with friends! 

“Matthew!” she roared.  “As a staff member, I should bloody fire you for consorting with a student!” 

“Madam,” said Matthew calmly.  “What if I marry the student, how will that affect my status as a staff member?” 

“Takes all the argument out of it, you old bugger, congratu-bloody-lations!”  Viktor took her by the hand and steered her to the barbeque where Lance and Angelo were cooking together.  They quickly made up a small plate for her to nullify the effect of the Ballantine’s and she quietened down.  Then Gerry, Wayne and Bronwyn arrived and the ‘family’ was almost complete.  Adam was gob-smacked, as was Angelo.  The two ‘non-believers’ were surprised but delighted.  Delighted that Matthew was exactly what everyone knew him to be; a modern-thinking, loving, straight man, but who had suddenly, so it seemed, fallen for a gay guy and had just decided to get on with it!  Adam embraced Matthew; after all, he was here because of some important shared history; they had shared many of life’s real risks together.  Matthew noticed Adam’s usual wet eyes and tried to short circuit the emotions he was obviously feeling.  These days Adam was more relaxed about his reaction to life’s romantic moments;

“At least you know I mean it,” he smiled at Matthew. 

Patrick came over and Adam pulled his wallet out of his pocket. 

“This is why I’m really crying,” he said.  “Mother here bet me fifty bucks that you guys would be a couple before Christmas!” 

Matthew roared with laughter, and everyone joined in the joke. 

“So what are you going to buy with your ill-gotten gains?” asked Adam.  “Nothing,” said Patrick, handing back the note.  “You can just cut it out!  Some extra action; ten bucks a time; that’s five head jobs over and above what we’re doing already!” 

The ‘family’ roared with laughter; Amanda and Annette didn’t see anything funny about the remark and Stephanie seemed somewhat vague as Richard joined in the mirth. 

*****

The Dean’s head had cleared and she was enjoying a nice Cabernet Merlot.  She watched with approval as the children, covering their mouths to stifle the odd yawn, worked their way around the group with Philippe and Matthew, wishing everyone goodnight and actually thanking them for coming!  ‘What beautiful manners,’ she thought.  ‘Raised by example; not from their mother who deserted them, but by a beautiful, artistic little Frenchman and my gorgeous head of security who are already great parents in their own right!  And the children have improved out of sight as a result!  That’s more socially significant than most people realise!  Knowing this group of young men as I do I think they will all be brilliant parents.’ 

Then she grew reflective, wrapped in the comforting blanket of the mellow red wine.  ‘These are the first children of this wonderful group,’ she thought, ‘after Bronwyn, that is, and she‘s nearly grown up!  ‘We have three married couples from the group, and next year, a fourth!  These young gay men have captured the true essence of marriage, whilst hetero society continues to give it a bad name!’ 

The Dean took Viktor’s hand. 

“These are our children, dear,” she said, “and now there are grandchildren if you know what I mean!” 

“Yes Margaret,” smiled Viktor, in his gracious European manner.  “But don’t forget the bet was that all the members of the Eight would end up as couples; Philippe and Matthew don’t count, you know!” 

“You are a wicked man, Viktor Nagy, How could you suggest such a thing!  An innocent woman like me!” 

“Margaret, the mere thought of a case of your favourite scotch on New Year’s Day every year is, I know, enough to make every syllable you speak about this subject totally untrustworthy and unreliable.  You would do anything to win that wager!”  She laughed heartily. 

“But they are our family, aren’t they?  I mean we were both disappointed we couldn’t have our own kids, yet with all the thousands of undergrads that have gone through this place since we’ve been here, I think you would have to agree, these boys are just unique and wonderful.  Mature well beyond their years.”  “Yes,” her husband replied.  “It’s more than your social research with them; it is a mutual affection between you all.  In all my years as an academic,” he laughed, “I have never believed in fraternisation between university governance and undergraduates.  Not only do these young men never take advantage of your rank in the university, they have instead made our life as a couple richer as a result.  And I have never heard any criticism from the general student body, either.” 

The Dean smiled, “Yes, isn’t it amazing; Gerry has been pestered by other students wanting to know how they can turn gay, because they see Adam and Patrick in particular as having a more desirable lifestyle than their boring hetero existence!” 

*****

Matthew opened one eye and gazed at the beauty beside him.  His hair fanned out across the pillow, Philippe slept serenely, a slight smile on his lips.  Matthew leaned in and gently kissed him.  Eyes still closed, Philippe ran his tongue over his lips. 

“Bonjour Matt-Hew.” 

“How did you know it was me?” Matthew laughed.  “It could have been anyone that kissed you.” 

“I always know you, Matt-Hew, you smell beautiful; like a real man, that is how I know.” 

Just then the children stirred; the toilet was used, and they pulled on their Sunday morning old tracky pants.  But instead of beginning their ‘rounds’ of the other residents immediately, there was a tap at the main bedroom door. 

“Oui,” smiled Philippe. 

Two heads looked around the door, and the smiles of delight could not have been more apparent. 

“You see, I am still ’ere, I told you so!”  They ran over and crawled on to the bed, kissing their parents good morning.  Matthew smiled with approval; his son and daughter were now very much at ease demonstrating affection, and that simple act reinforced their confidence.  Philippe had helped them in their interaction with people in all age groups, and their manners were stunning.  He was aware Susie was approaching puberty, and Philippe had had educated her about what-to-do the moment she had her first bleed.  Nothing phased him!  And Jon; well Philippe had spent an enormous amount of time, explaining how everything worked and didn’t criticise him when he discovered some handkerchiefs covered in dried semen!  So he found some old towels and cut them into strips, placing them in Jon’s bedside cabinet! 

“Now you have your own little cum rags, darling,” he said.  “Dad and I have ours, and now you have yours!”  Just put them in ze washing machine afterwards!”  Matthew gasped when he heard about it, but the more he thought about it, the more sensible the whole idea appeared! 

His kids would certainly have no hang-ups about things that were part of nature! 

Two weeks after Philippe moved in, Jon casually leaned across the breakfast table one morning; looked his father in the eye and enquired,

“How many times last night, dad?” 

“Eight.” 

“Liar.” 

“Fancy calling your dear old dad a liar.” 

“You are, no one does it eight times.”  Philippe got a crumb caught in his throat and had to run outside, knowing the father and son team were winding him up!  Susie just looked disgusted then saw the funny side and laughed.  Philippe held his sides and nearly pissed himself.  He shook his head and went back inside; Matthew, the biggest child of all, was also growing up very well indeed! 

Mon dieu!  He had such a well-adjusted family!