Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned:

Mark Henry Foster                           The story‑teller:  Pennefather Organ Scholar 2001
Tristan (Tris) Price‑Williams            His well‑proportioned boyfriend
Francis [Toad] Foster                       Mark's younger brother
Ivo Richie Carr                                  Mark's cousin:  chunky and cheeky with it 
Adam Benjamin Carr                         Ditto, as his twin
Oliver Jensen                                    A Musical undergraduate with allure
Charles Fane-Stuart                         Another organ scholar [1999] studying English
Brinley (Harry) Potter                        An unbright boatie:  Dead
Bryce (Babyballs) McArdle                A sullen Aussie rugger forward: Dead
Bradley Wolstencroft                         A Detective Chief Inspector, a leathrman off dity [Brad]
Dudley Woolpit                                  A Detective Sergeant, a leatherman off duty [Whippet, Dude]
Carl Bachmann                                 A Detective Constable, a leatherman off duty [Carlo; Batman]
Commander McKenzie                      Metropolitan Police:  Fiona's Father
Fiona McKenzie                                A mathematical undergraduate with presence
Brian Bridges                                    'Bulgy-Boy' A padded busboy at the Club
David Davies                                    A good-looking student nurse, nursing a desire

     "The DCI sent me up to Scotland Yard to see his old boss Commander McKenzie."

He looked at me, "You know his daughter, Fiona."  I nodded.  "Well, the DCI wondered if

there was something extra for the first death there might be something extra for the second,

too."

     "You mean there might be a connection somewhere?" asked Ivo.

     "I suppose because of the sleeping pills and the vitamin pills that had been tampered

with?" said Adam.

     "Yes, that's the basic idea, but it's a bit more earthy than that," the Sergeant said,

"Going back to the second case we know from the medical evidence the covering gelatin

would have dissolved in about fifteen to twenty minutes.  The strychnine would then be

released and would begin to work.  Once that gets going it affects the nervous system and the

victim would begin to stagger.  In fact, would be likely to fall over, but here the victim ended

up off the path, face down in a muddy ditch.  Mr Wolstencroft wondered if he'd been

assisted.

     "We'd had a photographer there, of course, and we'd looked at the photos submitted.

There were a lot of different footprints.  The old chap and his dog who found him as well as

Bryce's.  There were also some from our lads and we were able to eliminate all the sets.  But

then, what we didn't know was that the photographer was using a new digital camera and

he'd shot a lot more photos than submitted for the initial analysis.  He had about a dozen

more he'd taken along the path checking that his camera had automatic focussing.  The DCI

spotted these as they weren't in the first lot and I took them up to the lab boys in London.

They came up with blown up versions."

     He opened the document bag he had with him and drew out two ten by eight colour

prints and held one of them up.

     "What the lab boys noticed was that within the footprints which could be identified as

Bryce's were others which followed closely and were obviously imprinted just after he'd

made his set."  He pointed at the imprint of a large trainer or running shoe.  Within it was the

clear image of another, smaller, shoe.  "Bryce had size twelve feet.  This imprint inside is

size seven.  It was made by a very common make of trainer and that's going to be difficult to

track down as every kid of fifteen or sixteen with feet that size has them....."

     ".....So it's the little bloke again," said Ivo.

     Sergeant Woolpit grinned.  "Much the same as our conclusion.  But why should a set

of smaller prints follow so closely?"

     "Because if Babyballs was being poisoned and staggering," said Tris, "He wouldn't

know he was being followed."

     "And when he got near the ditch," said Adam, "A push, and he lands face down,

floundering."

     "Didn't even flounder," said the Sergeant, shaking his head.  "He fell head first into

quite deep mud so his nose, mouth and air passages were clogged with wet earth.  That's why

I said it was more earthy!"

     "Oh my God!" said Tris, "I feel sick!"  He jumped up and went to the bathroom.

     Adam got up and followed him.  "I'll see he's OK," he said.

     The Sergeant looked at Ivo and me as we sat and contemplated both an untimely end

and a horrible death.  Bryce had been twenty‑four and was dead.

     Tris and Adam came back into the room.  Tris's face much paler.  "I'm OK now," he

said, "I just couldn't bear to think of it.  He was in the same rooms I've got now.  He should

have got his degree and gone back to Australia.  I thought of him lying there in the stinking

mud...."

     "...Why did you say stinking?" asked the Sergeant.

     Tris thought for a moment.  "I don't know why.  But there is a funny smell that comes

from the ditch where it runs parallel with the river.  I noticed it last term when it was hot.  I

suppose I just remembered it."

     "Where Bryce fell in there was mud contaminated with sewage or slurry from a

broken pipe.  The stuff he fell in was very smelly."  He smiled.  "Just checking.  Anyway, we

know you didn't run that way that day because you met up with...." He consulted a notebook

which he had taken  from his bag.  "....Fiso Akabuli and Toby Barker.  Right?"

     Tris nodded slowly.  "Yeah, I told you I'd met the first lad, Ugandan, I think, after I'd

given up running with Brin.  Toby was often around, too, he's on the next stair.  They usually

ran the other way ‑ along the path the other side of the river from the boathouses.  I would

have been with them."

     "Yes," said Sarge, "That's what they told us, too."  He looked down at Tris's feet.

"And your trainers are not size seven?"

     Tris laughed and shook his head.  "Ten and a half!"

     "I can see that from here," said the Sergeant.

     "I suppose we've all been eliminated from your enquiries," said Ivo slowly, "Or you

wouldn't be here telling us things."

     "Or, he may be doing a Hercule Poirot," I said, rather smugly, as I knew I hadn't done

the dirty deeds, "All the suspects together and he drops the bombshell.  But, Sarge, it can't be

any of them ‑ they've all got big feet ‑ look at Adam's!"

     The Sergeant laughed.  "We eliminated you all within twenty‑four hours, don't worry.

We had a list as long as our arm of all the people who didn't like him.  He seemed to be able

to make himself heartily disliked in many ways."  He held up the notebook.  "It included

most of the Rugger Club, the bar staff, the buttery staff, four members of the public he'd had

arguments with and the ladies in the health food store who always got the manager out when

they saw him approaching.  Oh, and then there were three boathouses where he'd tried to

gatecrash to use their ergometers.  One of the smaller boaties ended up in the river and the

others were even a bit wary of dealing with him."

     "Does that bring you back to our Rowing Club?" asked Adam.  "I've been thinking

about that.  I've seen him on the ergometer in there.  Anyway, the cox of our main boat last

year was Tilly Masters, she's at Ridley Hall now doing the ordination course.  She was tiny."

     "That's why sex‑hound here was at the boathouse," said Ivo with a grin, "He didn't

get anywhere with her.  He almost joined the Christian Union to better his chances but she'd

already got some lad in tow."

     "Shut up, bro" said Adam, "She could be a material witness.  She was always jogging

along the river bank early in the morning with two lads from Pembroke."

     "Kept her in your sights, eh?" said Ivo.

     Adam sneered.

     Sarge spoke while he was riffling through other papers he had in the bag.  "We have

had reports of sightings of a small person seen running along the Grantchester path wearing a

plain grey sweatshirt with a hood pulled up and grey joggers.  We got that from the chap

whose dog found Bryce in the ditch.  Saw the person two or three times and noticed him or

her because his dog barked at them.  He said he hasn't seen the person since as he won't

walk along that path again.  Not much help."  He held up a bundle of papers.  "These are

copies of the statements you all made, except, of course, for you, Mark," he said.  "They all

tally with independent others, you've all got big feet, but, although you generally ignored

Bryce McArdle, none of you liked him."

     "He was bad‑tempered, a bully, homophobic, and not a very good sportsman," said

Adam.

     "I agree," said Ivo, "He was only tolerated in the team because he was like a bull‑

dozer in the scrum."  He shook his head.  "Tris told you of the confrontation he had with

Charles Fane‑Stuart and he called Drew Penry‑Jones a pouf and chucked him in the

fountain."

     "Something he never reported," said Sarge.

     "Against his principles," said Ivo.  "He's a born‑again Christian and, I guess, thinks

all these trials and tribulations are punishments for evils he or others have done, imaginary or

not.  I heard him ranting away on the Market last term telling everyone he was as great a

sinner as they were but was seeking atonement and everyone else should repent or expect

punishment."

     "He's harmless, though," said Tris.  "I told him I'm gay and he's left me alone since

then."

     "But he did see you apparently being sucked off by Brin," said Adam, "He yelled a

few things at the pair of you then.   And we were seen apparently about to have an orgy with

him.  His shouting then was almost incoherent.   I just think he's mad."

     Sarge looked at me and then at Tris with a grin on his face.  "If everyone who's gay

hasn't been told to repent at some time, they haven't lived."

     "Just a question, Sarge," said Ivo.  "The inquest on Brin was told he had cocaine as

well as that sleeping pill stuff in his system, then some coke was found in his room.  Have

you found anything about where he might have got it?"

     The Sergeant shook his head.  "The sleeping pills were Luminol and are not

prescribed a lot.  The bottle was clean, no finger‑prints and no chemist's label.  The batch

was distributed to many chemists around the country, we do know that.   The cocaine was a

brand we know, as it were, it's London‑based, cut very heavily, sells pretty cheaply in pubs

and clubs around the Camden and Kentish Town area and also near Liverpool Street Station.

We have no leads on that.  One dealer was found dead a week after the Brin death but the

Met don't think it was related.  His death was black‑on‑black over money not forthcoming

and the perpetrator was arrested the next day.  But, a batch like it was found stashed in a

holdall at Drummer Street Bus Station."

     "Here?  In Cambridge?" asked Adam.

     "Yes, we think someone dumped it, or the intended recipient was disturbed and never

retrieved it.  There was a local football match that evening and there were lots of rather

inebriated lads waiting for buses so a couple of fights broke out and the Force was called in.

Probably saw the blue lights, dumped the bag and scarpered.  It might be a red herring but we

have come across small amounts of the same stuff in four other colleges."

     "I don't think there's much, if any, amongst the hearties here," said Ivo, "Steroids

perhaps, like Babyballs!"

     "Yes," said Sarge, "Even his mother made a statement to that effect.  She'd found he

was going for injections at the age of fourteen but she was scared of him and his father was

too busy making money to bother.  A big rugby‑playing son was an asset as far as he was

concerned.  The tissue analysis confirmed that.  He was a long‑term steroid abuser with all

the known side‑effects."

     "You watch it," said Adam to Ivo, "You can't afford to have your balls any smaller

than they are.  We really would have to call you Peanuts then!"

     "Peanuts!  Peanuts!!," Ivo exclaimed on a rising note, "And you call yours wedding

tackle?  They'd have to send in the SAS to search for your winkle with a very large pin..."

     "OK, you two," said Tris, "We are all perfectly aware that you are both as under‑

endowed as the College...."

     Unfortunately for Tris, he was sitting on the settee between them.  Sarge watched and

laughed as they did their usual joint annihilation of the enemy.  Tris was soon squawking as

they held him and tickled and pinched him, undoing his shirt and jeans in the process.

Luckily he was not going commando so his prize possessions were not put on display for any

comparisons to be made.

     "Sergeant," I said, "They're assaulting my friend.  If they harm him he won't be able

to dance on Saturday."

     "Pax!" yelled Tris.  The magic word worked.

     "Thank you," said the Sergeant, nodding towards Ivo and Adam, "I look forward to

Saturday and if you care to join the party no doubt you will get a dance, too."

     I got up.  "I think coffee or tea is in order.  Please keep an eye on them while I'm out

of the room, Sergeant, they do get rather boisterous at times."  He laughed and sat back.  Tea

seemed to be the general order so I went out, put the kettle on and soon came back in with

the teapot, milk, sugar and good‑sized mugs, plus a packet of chocolate digestives.   There

was a discussion going on about rugby football.  Sarge had played a lot while in the Army

and had been in the Metropolitan Police College team when in training.  Ivo was doing much

of the talking with the Sergeant and I noticed Adam was looking very keenly at the very well‑

proportioned, tough‑looking man.  Tris had noticed too and nodded his head towards Adam

and smiled.  We knew who would be asking for the first, and probably the last, dance on

Saturday.

     Sergeant Woolpit said he'd better go but we could be very helpful if we kept eyes and

ears open.  Two deaths and they were now suspicious deaths.  It was being kept quiet just in

case anyone got suspicious themselves.

     It wasn't long after he'd gone and we were still talking about it all when there was a

bang on the door.  It was Charles.  He looked rather concerned but when he saw we were all

laughing he looked very pleased about something.

     "Darlings," he said in his usual manner, "I saw that so‑butch nice policeman come

along and then he was here so long I expected to see at least sweet Adam with gyves upon his

wrists and my hunky Ivo with a ball and chain and as for precious Tristan..."

     "...A large truncheon stuck up his....." began Adam.

     Charles raised his hands.  "....There is no need for indelicacies.  The poor boy looks

pale as it is and such treatment would no doubt increase his feeling of sickness....."

     "Charles!" said Ivo with mock sternness, "Have you been listening at the door?"

     "No, of course not," he said archly, "But the window there is ajar and I was admiring

the border of autumnal plants..."

     "So you heard it all?" I asked, "Anything to add?"

     "I noticed I was not mentioned.  My feet are an elegant size eight.  And I do not

possess any trainers."  He shook his head and the mane flowed.  "In any case I was safely in

my bed when both tragedies occurred...."

     "Any witnesses?" asked Adam intent on getting his own back.

     "Dearest one," said Charles, "As you were asleep and snoring beside me in your

dreams you are quite aware there were no witnesses.  Anyway, I have good news to impart."

     Adam was trying to work that one out.  I laughed.  "What's the good news after that

bad news for Adam?"

     "My dears, a momentous discovery.  I thought the crypt might be opened for a small

fee to selected members of the public as a tourist attraction of a superior kind.  I and that

little fiend were sorting through the collected detritus of the centuries when naughty young

Knott opened an old wooden chest and inside was a very old leather box..  You would never

guess but there they were!"  His hands were flapped up and down as though conducting a

celestial orchestra.  "Glorious ones, we had chanced upon some of the missing records of the Servants of the Chapel.  No wonder that old fraud Dr Smart never dared refer to them.  Salacious gossip.  Nefarious deeds.  Unspeakable acts.  Unfortunately much written in unreadable scholarly hand.  Dear Dr Henson has arranged for me to spend a week with an erudite don at Durham who has particular expertise in deciphering such ancient writings and I shall come back equipped with skills sublime and information unheard for centuries."

     "Anything to impart?  You must have been able to read something or you wouldn't be

so pleased," said Adam.

     "Adorable Adam you sound a mite piqued," said Charles, sitting down next to him.

"Your discovery in that small room is yours to record in whatever journal to which you wish

to submit.  All I counsel is that you put off that day until you have safely earned that degree

you so richly deserve.  There are persons who would not be pleased."  He held up a finger.

"My spies tell me," He placed the finger over his lips, "there are proposals being mooted to

break the Pennefather Trust.  It would be costly so to do but those behind it are determined

and would not bother if the College was ruined financially defending such an action.  Take

my advice.  Lie low and wait."

     "I fully intend to do that.  I have revised certain opinions," said Adam.  "The person I

think you are referring to may be a brilliant historian but I think he's a shit!"

     "Well, well!" exclaimed Ivo, "There's a turn up for the book.  Little bro is seeing the

light!"

     "Fuck you, Dickhead!" said Adam, "You know full well that kick in the balls hasn't

had any effect on him.  He's been after two of the First Years already and we think he's

scared one almost into giving him what he wants.  She's that nice Irish girl and Letty thinks

she's terrified if she doesn't comply she'll be out.  She won't say anything so they can't make

a complaint."

     "Can nothing be done?" I asked, "A discreet hint in the student rag?"

     "You have to be very careful," said Tris, "Law of libel is very strict.  He gets upset

and the editor's up for the chop plus anything else to cover damages.  Case a few years ago

when someone in the national press thought they had sniffed a scandal among the dons and

the paper had to pay up handsomely."

     Ivo laughed.  "It's been said that dons can only be sacked for indecency and Masters

of Colleges for gross indecency, and that's with a hundred and forty‑four boys, so fucking a

young lady doesn't come under either."  He turned to Adam.  "You offer him your bum and

I'll take a photograph."

     "Can't," said Tris, "That's incitement or entrapment, take your pick.  Anyway,

knowing Adam he wouldn't worry and then he'd sell it over the Internet to make a bit of

money."

     "Traitor," said Adam, "But's that's true.  My bum would make me a mint!"

     "Boys, boys!" said Charles, "Let's not get frivolous.  This is a very serious matter and

merits very serious concern.  I am so worried I wish to be diverted.  Get your glad rags on for

seven o'clock and we will all go to the Garden House for dinner.  My treat.  Mother has been

more than generous again though I am afraid someone did mention to her next American

clients that Scottish baronial is all the rage.  Tristan, dear, pop up and see if young Oliver is

there.  I must not forget him though he is moping over something at the moment."

     "I'll go," said Adam, getting up.  He was at the door before any more was said.

     Of course, the evening was a riot.  Charles had managed to decipher a long poorly

written Latin description which he brought along.   It was an account of how one of the dons

in 1530 had managed to seduce every new student by pretending that his dick ‑ mentula ‑ was

the rope from St Benedict's robe and that the holy outflowings from it would preserve them

from illness and especially the plague.  The scribe had used the word 'simulacrum' which

could mean an emanation of some kind, or some holy phantom, or even Holy Ghost.  We all

giggled as we guessed the scribe meant 'spunk'.  Each lad had been blindfolded ‑ oculos

alicui obligare ‑ and had been told to kiss the rope's end or it's knot ‑ nodus ‑ which could

also mean knob!  He had only been found out as one of the lads ‑ puer adolescens ‑ had older

brothers ‑ fratris major natu ‑ who had taught him to suck them off at nightfall ‑ combibo sub

noctem ‑ so this lad had guessed and had sucked the tutor dry ‑ exsorbeo ‑ and then

complained he was as bitter as herbs ‑ gustus rutae ‑ where his brothers had been as sweet as

honey  ‑ gustus mulsum.  All ended happily as the lad taught all his fellow students so that

the tutor and he had their way with all and sundry from the next stage, up the rear ‑ a tergo ‑

so nothing was sacred or safe from a stiff prick ‑ praeterea sanctum nihil est neque ab inguine

tutum.  But, all were happy and the Servant of the Chapel prospered as he knew all the

secrets of the hidden lusts ‑ inclusas eius libidines.

     Of course, we asked Charles if he knew of all the hidden lusts at present and as he'd

had the best part of a bottle of wine he confided that in his first year the two who then

occupied Ivo and Adam's rooms were not really brothers, but supplemented their incomes

from grants by running almost a male brothel and he was disturbed on numerous occasions

by students from other colleges wanting to know where the action was.  He archly denied that

he was no more than the Madame letting the clientele in and he said it all fizzled out when

one of the duo got the clap.  He then announced that he had been asked to stage another

extravaganza and had chosen Boadicea, or Boudicca, as she should be known.  He looked at

me.

     "Your little excursions into possible diversions has provided me with ideas for the

most agreeable tableau.  There will be a first rehearsal tomorrow evening at eight.  I will

require the use of your delightful room as I require a piano introduction and I am sure you

will be a willing confederate."  He pointed at Tristan.  "You dearest one with the lovely Toby

and that delicious hunk Louie to partner you...."  He wagged his finger and nodded.  "....You

will be perfect as you are all tall, muscular and blond."  Tris visibly preened himself.

Charles smiled.  "You will be truly angelic Anglo‑Saxons ‑ non Angli, sed angeli ‑ as dear

Pope Gregory said.  We shall have to use some blue colouring to create the verisimilitude of

woad‑painted warriors."  Oh yes, Toby Barker was the boatie Tristan had run with sometimes

last year and had a formidable physique and Louie was the Maths student I had found so

helpful ‑ a bright boatie, to boot.

     "Then you...," he pointed at Ivo and Adam, "...will be captured Roman legionnaires

who will have to act as my noble steeds drawing my chariot as other Romans have not only

stolen my hand‑maiden but my horses as well.  Mother has a friend who is very big in leather

and has promised to help."  I looked at Tris and grinned, he did, too.  We knew people who

were very big in leather, too!  "There will have to be a little camouflage I am sure."  Ivo and

Adam exchanged bemused looks.  "You, my blue‑eyed beauty," he pointed at Oliver, "You

will be my charioteer.  A few touches of the whip on the flanks of my fine stallions should

elicit a few twitches of those fine rumps and a round of applause from the assembly."  Ivo

and Adam's bemused looks turned to grins.  A touch of the whip?  He looked from one to

another of us seated round the table a smile played on his lips.  "I have other ideas which I

will impart in all good time."  He looked at me and gave a more than salacious wink.  What

that signified I didn't know.  "The performance is scheduled for Thursday the eighth of

November.  There will be a final rehearsal on the seventh, the day I return from Durham.

Your diaries will be free for both dates I am sure."

     There was no more discussion.  We had all been invited, no commanded, to be in one

of the famous or infamous revue items.  This would be my first exposure to the Clarissa, aka

Boudicca this time.  And I would be the musical assistant!  But the wink?

     On Saturday Tris, Oliver and I went off to the Club.  No sooner had we arrived and

met up with Carlo and Dave in their usual booth than Adam came breezing in.

     "Couldn't let you lot have all the fun," he said.  "Ivo's gone to a party with 'Tory and

Letty's gone up to London for the weekend."

     I was feeling flush so I bought all a round of scotches.  No wonder Brad usually

waved twenty‑pound notes!  But, neither he nor Whippet were there.  A new chap brought the

drinks.  I turned to Carlo and Dave.   "Where's Bulgy‑boy tonight?"

     "Addenbrooke's," said Dave,   "Bit of bother last night, eh, Whippet?"

     "Yep, I'd better tell you because you can't be too careful."

     "What's that?" asked Tris.

     Carl looked around at us and we all bent forward as he began the story.  "Last night

late, well this morning early really, Brian, that's Bulgy, was just leaving, everyone else had

gone.  A couple of guys were in the doorway over the road and they grabbed him.  One

kicked him in the balls, but that had no effect because he was always padded up and wore a

cup but he fell over and cracked his head on the pavement.  That knocked him out and the

pair started giving him a kicking anyway but he was unconscious so they got their dicks out

and started pissing on him.  Just then Whippet came out of the club ‑ he'd been discussing

things with Shawn one of the owners ‑ he saw what was happening, got on his mobile to his

team, got out his digital camera and took some flash photos of the pair.  They were dazzled

so he banged his cuffs on them, one to the other, gave a couple of rabbit chops and they went

down, too.

     "Shouldn't tell you this, but those two may not be in the baby‑making stakes in future

because he put his boots in to quieten them down and left on his bike just as our lot turned

up.  Brian was taken off and he's OK, just a bit concussed so they're keeping him in until

Monday.  The pair are in custody now.  They complained they were mugged but were shown

photos of them pissing on Brian and when searched had a bloke's wallet they'd nicked when

they'd mugged him earlier.  Tried to say Brian had solicited them but we found their car

then.  They'd done over a little store earlier as well and that had a stack of ciggies in it.

They're singing like canaries now and they're up before the Bench first thing Monday

morning.  Brad and Whippet are visiting a couple of their pals tonight and that should turn up

some interesting stuff, too."

     "Were you in the team?" asked Tris.

     Carlo grinned.  "How d'you think I know all this?  After I'd checked Brian with the

paramedics I helped the pair into the squad car.  No marks but they've both got sore kidneys

as well.  Couldn't hold their balls or rub their backs as they were properly cuffed up then.

You should have heard them moaning.  They're convinced it was another set of pond‑life that

got them first.  They thought at least three had attacked them." He laughed, "It was only

Whippet, but you know how he's built!"

     "Only from a covered exterior," said Adam.  "Good for him.  Gave the nasty buggers

a taste of their own medicine."

     "Well, we've had our eye on them for some time," said Carl, "And from what they

were saying about the ones they thought might have bashed then we've got evidence enough

for a little raid this evening."

     "And Brian's OK?" Tris asked.

     "Yes," said Dave, "I saw him this afternoon just before I came off duty.  A bit bruised

but he's more upset about getting the piss out of his new jacket he was wearing.  I took it to

the cleaners for him and they said it would be OK.  But he'll be out Monday and Shawn says

he can have time off if he wants and to come back when he feels like it."

     "Do you get much anti‑gay trouble?" I asked Carl.

     "A bit, but it's mostly this sort preying on the language school students.  You know,

the youngsters who come over for a few weeks usually during vacation times.  They're

vulnerable and generally a bit naive.  Then there are the ordinary foreign students. Quite a

few muggings.  They tend to leave the ordinary students alone ‑ big, hairy and prone to

violent responses if provoked, eh, Adam?"

     "I may be big and I may be hairy in the right places but the only violence I perpetrate

is on the field, eh, Tris?"

     "Too true, you've got lovely hairy legs and you've got a bush like a hearth‑brush!

And you did tackle that wing quite solidly this afternoon.  That was when you weren't just

standing around scratching your bollocks."

     Adam laughed.  "You wouldn't know.  You were bloody eyeing up their scrum half,

especially after his shorts were torn and his bum was hanging out.  I saw you go in for a

tackle!"  He turned to me.  "You want to watch him, he'd have had that lad except he had

those cycle short pants on instead of a jockstrap...."

     "....I trust him," I said, interrupting the diatribe, "And it's time I had a dance."  We

were well into our second drink by now and I was looking at Tris.  The beat of the music

from the DJ's corner was getting to me.  I felt incredibly horny and I wanted to be close to

him.  I grabbed him, we took off our shirts and we were on the floor, colliding with each

other as we tried to co‑ordinate our movements with the beat.  We were dancing really close

amongst the others when I tapped Tris on the back.   "Don't look now!"

     Of course he did, I did and everyone else did, too.  A beautifully toned glistening

torso had been revealed.  Adam had taken his shirt off, too.  He was partnered by an equally

toned glistening torso on a second lad ‑ Oliver.  They danced together as if they'd been doing

it for ever.  Carlo and Dave joined and the six of us circled the floor smiling at each other

and having the most wonderful time.

     "What's the betting....." began Tris, whispering in my ear.

     "...No bets," I replied, "Adam and Oliver"

     "Alpha and Omega," said Tris.

     I kissed his ear and we continued dancing for the rest of the evening, stopping only

for quick slurps at ever‑refilling glasses.  We left at midnight.  The other four still on the

floor.

     Sunday morning there was a  knock on my door.  Tris went to it and beckoned the

grinning pair in.  We had breakfast prepared and Tris enquired whose idea it was for the

oiled torsos.

     Adam almost blushed.  "My idea really," he confessed, "True I had an itchy bollock

so I bought some baby oil at Sainsbury's when I was stocking up on grub.  Thought it might

help."

     "You mean to say, my Aunt Sophie used to anoint your little nuts when you were an

infant?" I enquired.

     Adam laughed.  "Mum always rubbed it in whenever we had a bruise or an itch.  I

don't know if I had it rubbed in there when I was a baby but I remembered having it on my

leg at Infants' School and it was soothing."

     "I went to check what time we had to be in Chapel today as it's a visiting preacher

and there he was trying to put the stuff on his back," said Oliver.

     "So you'd planned to go to the Club, eh?" asked Tris.  Adam just nodded.  "And the

pair of you anointed each other and that nonchalant entry of his was already arranged?"

     Both nodded and grinned.

     "And did you anoint his itchy balls?" I asked.

     Oliver produced that sweet smile.  "No, but I held them and felt them last night....."

     ".....Stop it, Oliver, that's ours," said Adam.

     "No," said Oliver, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek.  "It's for all of us.  We

talked for ages when we got back.  Adam slept with me last night..."

     "....Ivo had 'Tory in our rooms," He looked across at me.  "I was going to ask you if I

could doss down on your settee...."

     "We slept together and I know I love Adam."  The smile broadened.   "I don't care if

Adam doesn't love me or if he needs to go with someone else, I'll be there..."

     Adam was nodding and then suddenly burst into tears.  Oliver looked startled, but

Tris slipped round the table and hugged him.

     "Adam, we all love you," said Tris, "But I think you're not sure which way you might

be.  You know what it's like for both, don't you, and you don't know which way your

feelings need to settle.  Just follow your instincts.  Oliver's just told you how he feels.  Both

Marky and I know what a loving person you are and what a powerful lover you are.  You've

got feelings for Whippet, too, haven't you?"  Adam sniffed and nodded.  "And it wouldn't

take much for you to got to bed with either Marky or me again?"

     Adam was really weeping now.  He flung his arms round Tris.  "I love you Tris more

than I dare say and the same for Mark.  I look at both of you and I want to tell you..."  He

shook his head, his eyes shedding tears.  "I look at Whippet and imagine what it would be

like to have those arms round me and feel that body against mine,...."  He sniffed heavily.

"....and last night with Oliver I wanted him so badly I couldn't help it we just lay here and

I......."  He burst into loud sobs.

     Oliver dropped to his knees and clasped Adam round his waist.  "You gave me

yourself.  It flooded all over me.  I was so happy.  I didn't even have to touch you, then you

took mine.  I've never had that done to me.  Your beautiful mouth.  I lay there and gave you

all mine as well.  We lay and kissed and I tasted me on your lips and tongue and I felt those

lovely balls where all yours came from.  I love you Adam...."

     It was my turn.  I went round and wiped his tears with my handkerchief.  I bent down

and kissed him full on the lips.  His mouth opened and our tongues touched.  It was an

electric moment.  Tris reached down and unzipped his jeans and undid his shirt buttons.

Oliver found his erect penis peeping out above the waistband of his pants.  As Oliver sucked,

Tris kissed and licked his nipple and I caressed his tongue with mine.  Oliver gasped as

Adam came.  Four boys kissed and shared Adam's seed.

     "I'm not sure," said Adam when he surfaced.  "I want to get married.  I would love to

have a family but when I see you and Whippet and Carlo and Dave and some of those other

lads I want to have that sort of love as well."

     "There's love and there's fucking as you well know," said Tris.

     Adam looked at Tris.  "You know what happened between us in Italy was love.  Real

love."  Tris nodded.   "...And I've loved Oliver from the very first day I saw him at school,

but until last night I had never touched him.  I ached to hold him from that day until last

night.   That dance then was the most wonderful....."  He stopped and he looked starry‑eyed.

     Oliver kissed his cheek.  "I've loved you Adam from that first day when you came

into the room where all us young‑'uns were.  You smiled.  I melted.  I wanted you to be my

big brother.  I didn't know about love then.  I told Tris and Mark about all the times I wanked

with my friends.  What I didn't tell them was I thought of you every time, wishing you could

be standing by me."  He kissed him again.  "I used to watch you when you showered with us.

I tossed myself off  in bed every night wishing you were beside me..... ......You know I love

you."

     "I do, Oliver," said Adam, shaking his head.  "I have to sort myself out, though.  I

don't want it to be just getting my rocks off.  I don't know.  I'm so confused.  Please, I really

need help.  Don't tell Ivo, he'll only tease me."

     Tris stroked his head.  "Adam, my love, I don't think Ivo will tease you or say

anything.  He's your brother and I'm sure he's read the signals.  Mark and I knew last night.

He must have seen how you've been looking at Oliver and he must have known it wasn't just

altruism on your part taking all those youngsters for runs."

     Adam smiled.  "I did like taking those kids for their cross‑country, but I also wanted

to be with Oliver.  Yes, I think Ivo knows and he'll understand.  He's been inquisitive, hasn't

he Marky?"  I nodded.  "And he told me that Tris had opened his eyes and his mind to what

love between two males could be.  No, I'm not afraid of what Ivo might say, it's me.  I'm the

one who's a bit more than confused."

     We left it there.  We knew Adam needed support.  How could we give it?  He

definitely didn't know which way to go.  Tris then told him straight that he wasn't to keep

Oliver dangling, as it were.  If he was bi then he must declare it.  He wanted to have kids.

How would that equate with his feelings for Oliver?   That morning in Chapel the visiting

preacher took his text from 1 John 3, 18: 'Let us not love in word, neither in tongue, but in

deed and in trust'.   He said that love was the mainspring of any relationship ‑ there was a

difference between agape ‑ the holy  love between two people and eros ‑ the sexual love.

People had the choice but the most important thing in any relationship was being friends and

knowing that the relationship was stable through the commitment to the other, the important

elements were the deed of love and the trust involved..

     I looked over the rail of the organ loft.  Tris in the choir stalls, in his surplice and

robes looked up and smiled.  My two basses, Adam and Oliver sat side by side, also

surpliced, and I saw two hands slip together and that clasp was the beginning of what I knew

would be a life‑long friendship, if not a relationship.

To be Continued: