Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned:

Mark Henry Foster  The story‑teller:  Pennefather Organ Scholar

Tristan (Tris) Price‑Williams  His well‑proportioned boyfriend

Francis [Toad] Foster   Mark's sexually rampant younger brother

Maria Foster   Mark and Francis's mother

Jack Goodman  Frankie's bosom pal

Shelley Price‑Williams  Tris's younger sister

Anthony Pugsley  Shelley's ardent boyfriend

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

Edward Jensen  Oliver's younger brother with extra allure

Angus (Zack) McKenzie  Fiona's younger brother, a young man with panache

Brandon McKenzie Her even younger brother who can overdo things

Guido Faldi   A very hairy Italian medical student

Ernesto di Cremona  Guido's boyfriend

Pietro Faldi  Guido's cousin and another overdoer

Francesco Matteoli  Designer and uncle of Mark and Francis

Aldo Leopardi  Companion of Uncle Francesco

Charles Fane‑Stuart   Now Research Student and Assistant to the Bursar

Mum was waiting for us at Heathrow and laughed at all the bags we had for luggage.  As

well as the ordinary cases and hand luggage there were two other large suitcases, excess

baggage which Aldo had paid for, containing a selection of old and new Matteoli gear.  There

were strict instructions that some had to go to Jacob for display to any people signing

contracts for supplies.  The rest could be shared between us and....  Frankie.  I knew who

would get the lion's, or perhaps better, the Leopard's share.

     Tris sat in the front with Mum and told her how much we'd enjoyed our holiday and

she said she'd spoken to her brother and he'd confirmed the delightful rapport between all

the visitors.  "Even Francis......" she began with a chuckle.  "Even Francis," confirmed Tris,

"Steady Eddie kept him in check, I'm sure."  Yep, we'd nick‑named him Steady Eddie.

     "When you get home he's got something to tell you," she said, "He'll be home from

school by then and I've left the usual stack of food.  Please don't tease him too much.  He

seems quite a reformed character."

     "Mum," I said from the back seat, "Frankie will be teased as usual.  I will say, though,

he did show his good side one hundred per cent at the Villa.  He's got Steady Eddie and Zack

now as examples, and they all want to go to St Mark's."

     Mum laughed.  "Our phone bill'll be double I think.  He's been ringing Zack almost daily.  They're planning something I'm sure."

     When we arrived home Mum said we could take our luggage in later, she had to pop

over the road as Mrs Coombes wanted her to sing at her daughter's wedding.  Oh God!  I

thought.  Becky Coombes!  Tris had spied on her for about ten years since she was fourteen

or so.  His bedroom was at the front of their house right opposite the side entrance of the

Coombes house.  Becky had had a different boyfriend about every three weeks and Tris had

kept a log of whether she allowed them to kiss her on the first occasion of delivering her

home ‑ 1 point, or whether she allowed them to cop a feel of a breast ‑ 2 points; second

occasion, as before, but, both breasts ‑ 3 points, and a lifted dress with hand under ‑ 4 points.

As she got older so the four‑pointers increased.  That was, in our opinion as savvy young men

of fourteen or so, as far as they got because the next week there would be a replacement.  As

most of the boyfriends were hunky types from the local Rugby Club where her equally hunky

older brother played, Tris said he got more pleasure watching them than her.  He was most

disappointed when she went off to university and big brother moved out of the district, but

she returned unattached and until he went to St Mark's he still kept an eye on Becky's

suitors.  So Becky had at last succumbed to the attentions of some young stud!

     Of course, Mum really wanted to be out of the way!  Tris went in first, I heard him

say "Hello, Jack".  I followed and there were the pair of them, both still arrayed in school

uniform, sitting primly side by side on the opposite side of the breakfast table.  True, there

was still a reasonable stack of food in front of them.  I also said "Hello, Jack".

     I could see the reason for the school blazers still being on.  The discreet red braid

edging to their breast pockets and the prominent shield‑shaped red badge on their lapels.

Tris went over to Frankie and put his hands on his shoulders with his fingers just round his

neck.  Frankie sat stock still.

     "Hi, and how is the Baron von Trufflehound today?  I see they let you back in Nursery

School.  Hope you didn't pinch Karen's dolly again."

     Jack snickered.  Frankie didn't move. This all stemmed back to the first day at

Infants’ School for Frankie at the age of five.  Mum had taken him and he'd snivelled as, I

suppose, all of us had done, and to comfort himself had appropriated Karen Wheeler's rag

doll.  Time to go home and there was a screaming match and Karen had been a hate object

ever since.  To start with, she was three days older than him, which didn't help matters.  Tris

and I had to walk with him to the school after the first day and he resolutely refused to walk

on the same side of the road as Karen if he saw her.  She lived about six houses along from

us so the probability of meeting her going to school was high.

     All through Junior School the same animosity persisted.  I don't think Karen realised

the level of loathing but, for example, Frankie would be seething when he came home as,

say, she'd chosen him as a member of her team in PE.  The girls, being bigger than the boys

of the same age in Junior School, were invariably chosen as the leaders and Karen was a born

leader.  Frankie was not forgiving.  That doll had been a comfort in his first hours of

adversity and, in his opinion, had been snatched from him.  He had breathed a sigh of relief

when he had won the bursary to our all-boys' school and she had done the same for St Paul's.

Even I thought Karen was a pretty girl and nice with it.  Frankie's lip curled at the mention of

her name.

     "And how's my sister?  Is Pugsy still sniffing around?"  Anthony Pugsley was the

rather nice muscle‑bound lad who had been her beau at the party.  'Little dick' according to

Frankie.  Was he secretly enamoured of Shelley, or, just jealous that Pugsy had 'a woman' in

tow and he hadn't.

     "Anthony is now Vice‑Captain of Rugby," Frankie said in measured tones, still not

moving.  "And your sister is with him this evening until ten o'clock.  Your mother and father

are at a Bar dinner and won't be home until late so you have been invited to stay until she

returns."

     I thought I'd better de‑fuse the situation.  Frankie was getting steamed up.  He was six

feet now of prime young English, plus Italian, beef.  Tris was treading on dangerous ground.

I stepped in.

     "Congratulations to you both.  Prefects!  You must have impressed the Lord and

Master."  That was our name for the Headmaster.

     Frankie turned his head to Jack.  "You win," he snarled.  He looked at me and smiled,

then turned his head round and looked at Tris.  "Thank you for that interlude.  I lost.  We had

a bet.  Jack said you'd take the piss and I said Marky would start, but you came in first.

Fair's fair, Jack, you won."

     I think Tris and I goggled at each other.

     Frankie looked over at me.  "Where's your bags?"

     My turn.  "Oh, we left Mum out there.  She said she'd carry them in."

     Frankie stood up.  "You.....!"  He turned to Jack who had also stood up.  "Come on,

we'll go and get them!"

     My!  The worm, or Toad, had turned!  "It's OK, Frankie," I said, "Mum's gone over

to see Mrs Coombes.  You can come and help, there are four rather large bags as well as the

hand luggage."

     "Bastard!" he said quietly, accompanied by the trademark sneer.

     "OK, Frankie," said Jack, "We both won.  They're both just the same."

     Oh, ho!  The usual so‑quiet Jack was commenting.  Good for him.

     "Bags can wait," I said, "I'm starving.  Tell us all the news."

     Jack poured us tea, Frankie got another pack of biscuits out of the pantry, 'just in

case'.  Tris had two sandwiches down him in record time and we heard:  a) they'd been

singled out for Prefectural responsibilities, along with Pugsy, who was a good bloke after all,

and four others in the Lower Sixth, b) they were both playing hockey instead of that rough

game rugger, c) Jack was applying to University College at London to read Maths and

Statistics, d) Francis was applying to St Mark's to read Music, e) Madam Keech was entering

him for the LRAM in piano playing at Christmas as soon as he was seventeen, he'd leave the

ARCO until next year, but he was doing Grade Eight trumpet as well,  f) No, he would not be

coming to Cambridge for half‑term as he was going to Gran's for a week of intensive piano

lessons and practice, g) Laurent would be coming to London the end of that week, and, h)

Tris had better keep an eye on his sister as Pugsy's dick wasn't as little as first thought and

there were rumours he had an erection most of the time when he wasn't leading the scrum.

     Tris thanked him for that intelligence and said he thought his sister could look after

herself.  Frankie's lip curled again.  "It's not fair going to an all-boys' school.  Bozo's cousin

goes to a mixed comp and he's had dozens...."

     ".....so he, or Bozo says," said Tris.  "You keep your dick in your drawers," Jack

snickered again, "You'll find someone one day and you'll make her very happy."

     Frankie sighed.  "Even Jack's got a steady.  Girl next door."  Jack was blushing and

whispering 'Shut it!'  "I'm the only one I'm certain in our lot...."

     "...Don't bank on that," said Tris, "Boy's boast.  They have to, otherwise their egos

would collapse.  And you watch it, too, Jack!"

     "You're not our age and you've got him!" said a now despondent Frankie.

     "Come and help us with the bags.  There might be something for you."  I said and the

mood changed immediately.

     "Yes...," said Tris, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and bringing out two small

packages.  He gave one to Jack and passed the other over to Frankie.  Jack opened his and

saw it was a very nice engraved pen.  Frankie opened his and while he was doing it Tris

continued.  "....I think it is most appropriate."  I smiled, I knew, another of the knick‑knacks

from the shop by the cathedral.  This time a Catholic bleeding heart with a reproduction of

the Naples phial of liquefying blood.  "When you find the right one, the miracle will

happen..."

     Six foot leapt and hugged almost six foot.  "It wouldn't be right if you and Marky

didn't...."  The '...take the piss' went unsaid as Mum came through the back door carrying

my small hand luggage bag.  She was laughing.

     "Thought I'd better let you say your hellos in peace and tranquillity," she said,

heaving the bag at me and nodding her head at the back door.

     Jack and Frankie were first out and brought in Uncle Francesco's suitcases first ‑

those which we'd had to lie about at the airport as we hadn't packed them and only had a

hazy idea of what might be in them.  The lads were ecstatic as they opened them on the

kitchen floor.  They and their pals would be even more kitted out.  I think the term was

'Fabulosa'.  The stuff for Jacob was packed separately and the pair listened with undisguised

admiration when Tris said he was working with Jacob on the setting up of the new

franchises.  Frankie's eyes goggled when he opened the envelope from Uncle Francesco and

saw the size of the cheque.  Tris explained that he also had envelopes for Zack, Brandon and

Steady Eddie as well as the 'grown‑ups'.  Frankie was too far gone in contemplation of his

cheque to heed the gibe.

     The weekend went quickly.  Mum said she would take us back to Cambridge on

Monday.  She would brave the A205 and the M11.  Dad said nothing in it as long as you

remember the speed limit is 70 on the motorway.  Mum did have the reputation for putting

her foot down.  I said I had better go back early as the new organ scholar, whom I'd not met

yet but Charles had described as 'a sweet boy' when I asked him what he was like as he'd

met him at his interview the year before, would be up early, too.   I knew Drew, now senior

organ scholar, wouldn't be interested, except in his soul.  There was also the timetable of

lectures to sort out.  Second year was going to be more difficult anyway and I really ought to

read something of the prescribed texts.  Professor Tanner, or James, as he said I should now

call him, had sent on a wodge of notes and problems, so a couple of days quiet contemplation

would be useful.  Oh, then I was due for a recital in November and I was practising hard with

Lewis for the FRCO.  This year or next?  And I had to choose the works for the Christmas

Concert and as Drew was useless I would have to train the choir and choose all the anthems.

No Matt to rely on.  Perhaps Oliver would help?  Second year Music student now so it would

give him experience.  I was methodical.   I made a long list after church on Sunday.  That

wasn't too bad as well, I mean church.  Frankie played the incoming, Mr Prentice played the

hymns and I, cheekily, played the Lefebre‑Wely Sortie in B flat as the congregation left and

some were giggling.  At least, Mr Briggs, one of the churchwardens, said it had a bit of tune

in it.

     We all had lunch at the Price‑Williams and Pugsy was there, too.  Real feet under the

table.  Yes, he was a handsome lad, except for the nasty bruise on his cheek and the

beginnings of cauliflower ears.  I would suggest to Frankie that scrum‑caps might be

something for the Matteoli line.  The more I looked at Pugsy the more I thought he was

eminently beddable.  Yes, he filled his jacket nicely and, when he removed it, he had very

shapely upper arms and his pecs were well developed under his tight shirt.  Baggy jeans,

though, meant no check on bulges.  But, all in all, if he was thrown out by Shelley and

wanted comfort I'm sure.....  I caught Tris looking at me.  His lips pursed.  I knew his mind‑

reading abilities.  I gave him a slight Toad sneer back.  He grinned and nodded.  Pugsy had

been fucked top and bottom, mentally at least.  I looked at Shelley.  Yes, she was also a

handsome creature, too, if you liked females.  She was very much in Tris's mould.  Nicely

blond, a winning smile, a very good dress sense and very courtly manners.  Toad could have

made a hit there, but she was gazing at Pugsy as if he was even better than sliced bread.  I

caught Uncle Nick's eye.  He was amused, too.

     Oh to be back at Cambridge!  I'd had little time with Tris and certainly no sex since

our return.  All of two days.  I was getting very wanton.  All those weeks away:  sun,

swimming and sex on tap.  This weekend: nowt.

     Mum drove almost sedately and Tris sat up front with her as before.  Tris and Mum

got on so well.  She was laughing as he recounted even more of the antics on holiday.  He

didn't quite get round to poor Pietro's tearful admission of having a sore prong but he did

recount how Adam, having been assailed in the pool by Pietro and Brandon, had caught

them, removed their swim‑trunks and had swum off with them on his arms like kiddies'

floats.  They pursued him as fast as possible grabbing at their garments, fearful of being seen

by the elderly ladies and inducing heart attacks or fainting fits at the sight of a pair of just

fifteen‑year‑old half‑grown cocks.  Of course, Adam had taken the lads off later and plied

them with gelato at the emporium none of us could resist passing.

     Oh, yes.  Adam Carr BA, Junior Research Fellow in History, as announced on the

college notice board a few days before the end of last term, was in the States and would be

back in time for Christmas.  It wouldn't seem the same without Adam and Ivo.  Ivo was on

the training course learning to be a diplomat.  A desk job in London first, then a posting.

He'd been constantly sending cards to 'Tory while at the Villa and told us she was starting

work at a publishers in London and the plans were to share a flat.

     We arrived in good time.  The large limousine was there and a harassed looking Liam

was piling boxes onto a trolley.  Charles was back.  His stay in the States had finished.

Mother was no doubt refurbishing the whole of New Hampshire by now.  Liam gave us the

thumb's up and we left our bags and took Mum into College.  Old Albert was in residence.

A replay of last year was in progress.  Almost.  This time it was two young men in sweats and

joggers getting an earful.  Both towered over Albert, who was wearing his bowler hat for

added emphasis, but both were cowering with the flow.  Both had dared to cross the

hallowed turf, reserved for 'Senior Members of the College'.   "....I will not take action this

time," the tirade finished, "But that grass was laid four hundred years ago and not for the

likes of you to tread on!!  Good morning Mrs Foster, Mr Foster and Mr Price‑Williams," he

continued without drawing breath.  The two young men, newcomers I didn't recognise,

graduates of one of the colleges of our ex‑colonies I assumed, turned and fled.  "Mr Knott

and Mr Fane‑Stuart are in your set, sir," he addressed me.  "A slight leak from an over‑

flowing pipe in the set above.  Professor Jensen has been in residence there while Mr Oliver

has been on vacation and has been a little forgetful."

     Oh, Oliver's grandfather, the epigraphist, had been up.  That meant Oliver would be

returning to his old room.  I guessed he might be staying at Zack's and coming up from there.

     Old Albert turned to Mum.  "Mrs Foster, if you care to go first to the Chaplain's

House, Mrs Henson will have coffee ready."

     Obviously Old Albert didn't want Mum fussing about water damage or whatever.  We

said we'd see her later and meandered round the quad.  We were very careful not to get too

close to the hallowed turf.  As we got to the stairway door so Jason came out, a great smile

on his face.   No longer the soft round hat but a proper bowler.

     "Congratulations, Mr Knott," I said, even before he could greet us, "A real rise for

you in the firmament, eh?"

     Tris added his congratulations.  It meant that Jason was no longer officially a Lodge

Boy as the Statutes deemed him, Assistant Porter as everyone thought of him, but now, a

fully‑fledged Porter with some very interesting powers over students who transgressed the

Rules.  Most Rules had been rescinded, or weren't observed, like, 'students must wear gown

and square when off College premises within the town', or, 'students must not whistle or sing

within the College grounds unless in some permitted performance', or, 'students must not

enter the College after hours by scaling the walls', or, best of all, 'students must not bring

any female within the College premises unless she is a bona‑fide visitor, viz., mother, aunt or

sister'.  Any of these being transgressed then the Porter ‑ known colloquially in those days as

a Bulldog ‑ would have had the duty of escorting the culprit to the Porter's Lodge where his

name would be taken for appearance before the Dean in the morning.  A fine, being gated, or

worst of all, being rusticated, that is, being sent down, were the punishments in the past.  The

Dean still saw naughty students, generally for rowdiness, or being sick on the staircase after a

good night out, but was noted for both his benevolence and having the reputation for

climbing more roofs and depositing more chamber pots or other unseemly objects on

pinnacles as a student than any other in recorded history.

     Jason greeted us and said all was well in my set as there had been little damage and

the College maintenance man (always pronounced as main‑tain‑ance) had already made good

the depredations.  "But," he said with a smile, "Mr Fane‑Stuart has some news for you both."

     He walked off sedately, but chuckling.  What was to be revealed?  My set door was

open and there was Charles with a clipboard.  Quite a different Charles.  No short, blazoned

gown.  His usual neat suit, though.  We both blinked.  No longer the mane of silvery hair, but

a neat short, but still silvery, haircut.

     "My darlings!" he said, that was just the same, "I am glad to say that the dear Bursar,

bless his unorganised mind, has taken to his heart some of my suggestions for

accommodating a portion of the increase in the student population of the College."   He

made an expansive gesture.  "Here, for example, you will notice the staircase board now

indicates a joint occupancy for this set and I have checked that a convenient truckle bed has

been erected in the bedroom through there..."  He pointed towards my beloved bedroom.

     I began to gobble like a turkey.  My lovely rooms!  My ordained right as the

Pennefather Organ Scholar to the best set of rooms in College for single occupancy now to

be invaded by some snotty‑nosed brat of a First Year reading Pig Keeping for Morons, or

worse still, some farting, belching, nineteen‑stone monstrosity from God knows where,

hoping to dig holes in the turf at Twickenham by booting his way to annihilating his sub‑

human counterpart in the Oxford Fifteen!

     The gesture again.  "...Worry not, dear soul," Charles said, sensing my verging

apoplexy, "This set has been designated a double as specified.  Mr Foster and Mr Price‑

Williams are to share."

     "Oh my God!" breathed Tris, "How did you manage that, Charles?"

     He smiled.  "It has exercised me somewhat for a while that a perfectly good room

was almost lying vacant on our third floor.  I made certain suggestions to the Bursar about

joint occupancy of other sets scattered around the College and he, with aplomb, has

announced it as his own idea and I have assisted him by listing certain conjugations."

     He looked at Tris.  "I hope you have no objections as I have suggested, in my role as

Research Student, that I should be accommodated on this staircase in the room you have

recently vacated.  I have taken the liberty to have the rest of your possessions you left in the

cupboard to be deposited neatly in the bedroom of this set."

     Tris laughed.  "Of course I don't object, but that cupboard was locked and I've got

the key."  He felt in his jeans pocket and drew out a shiny key.

     Charles held up a bunch of keys and singled out a well‑worn looking key.  "This key

in the possession of successive Servants of the Chapel has opened many secrets.  It will be

passed on, with the others, to young Boswell Johnson, whose parents must have craved great

things for their son, who will be arriving tomorrow afternoon to assume the duties I

relinquish forthwith."

     "Charles, you old reprobate," Tris said shaking his head, "And what other things have

you managed to organise to the advantage of friends?"

     Charles smiled and bowed his head.  "A glance at the board will reveal that your

comrades, Gabriel Pack and Joshua Gibbons are to occupy the set vacated by dear Mark's

ebullient cousins.  Adam will be living out of College I am informed, but he and Mr James

Al‑Hamed will be sharing the rooms for tutorial and study purposes vacated in such an

untimely way by that man."  Even in death, Charles refused to name him.  "I think we may

witness some happy liaisons with the new conjunctions as there are now a round dozen

shared sets." He looked at me.  "You do not object to the new arrangement, I hope?"

     I had recovered.  I shook my head.  "Only you, Charles, could have done it."

     He inclined his head again.  "I must go and report to Mrs Chalfont‑Meade that all is

well on this staircase."  Mrs C‑M was the Bursar's secretary ‑ employed, so rumour had it,

only because her husband was the Bursar's golf partner and fellow drinker at the nineteenth

hole and certainly not for her secretarial skills.

     As soon as he'd gone Tris and I hugged each other.  We were sharing.  Bugger the

truckle bed or whatever contraption was installed.  The four‑poster now would be our

permanent domain!  As soon as Liam had come and deposited our bags we went in search of

Mum.  We were bubbling.  Mum was just emerging from the Chaplain's House, a part hived

off from the previously huge Master's Lodge, with Mrs Henson saying a cheerful goodbye.  I

suppose the two hulks were almost skipping along in her eyes.

     "You do look pleased," she started...

     "....Tris and I are sharing the set...." I began.

     "....So he won't have to go up to a cold bed...." she said, beginning to giggle.

     "Mum!" I said.

     "Best thing," she said, walking between us and taking an arm of each, "Frankie said

he and the others, even the youngsters, saw how close you were and how kind, and he did say

loving, to everyone.  It made them all happy and I think you made a very great impression.

I'm proud of you both."

     Simultaneously we both leaned down and kissed Mum's cheeks.  I had the feeling this

year was going to be momentous.

     Mum came back to the College to collect her car after we'd had lunch at the Cafe Rouge.  She was laughing when she'd seen the odd little bed poked in the corner of the bedroom.  "Wait until I tell Frankie!" she said.  "Mum!" I said, imagining the gibes.  All Mum did was a perfect Toad sneer.  I was convinced then it must be genetic.

     Tris and I decided he would have a desk in the bedroom, and I would get Jason to

organise that, and we could use the spare bed as a repository for all the clutter which usually

got spread around.  That meant we could keep the main room as a meeting place for friends

and sheer relaxation.  Of course, I pointed out, my study was sacrosanct.  Looking at the

University lectures listed for Mathematics students taking Part One B as I would be, I came

to the realisation that relaxation was not a word in the University's lexicon.  I spent most of

the rest of the afternoon in my study meticulously listing the lectures, scheduled tutorials,

choir practices, services Mondays and Thursdays, services on Sundays, orchestral practices,

organ practice, lessons with Lewis, the organ recital third week of November, and so on, on

the large Planner I'd bought on the way back from lunch.  I read through some of the notes

from James Tanner and managed a couple of the problems, then battered the piano for

relaxation.  No, I played carefully, releasing any tensions I had felt, I knew I was too

disciplined to go beyond how I felt about the music.  Yes, I relaxed.... ...a bit.  Then went

back to my study and did some more Maths.  Tris had gone off to Jacob's office near the

Market Place for the afternoon and knocked and asked demurely if he might come in when

he returned at about six.

     "Come on, you great pillock," he said looking at the chart I'd blue‑tacked to the

panelling, "I hope we're not having the same crisis we had last year.  Little Boy Blue lost and

all that."

     "No," I said, "It's just that I want everything organised.  It makes me feel better.  You

should do the same."

     He laughed.  "I have, it's all on my lap‑top, and it's time to eat!"

     We ate a cold supper of ham, salad and rolls which Mum had insisted we brought

with us and spent the evening discussing what he'd done at Jacob's office that day, reviewed

our holiday once again and sorted out who would do what and when about keeping the set

liveable in.  At least both of us were house‑trained, as Mum always put it, so keeping things

under control wouldn't be a problem. We thought it would be quiet without the Thugs

appearing on the scene for runs, breakfast, evenings when work got tedious, and keeping all

and sundry on their toes.  Still, Oliver and Charles would be on the stair and Gabe and Josh,

when he wasn't shagging the Women's Rugby team, would be around.  I supposed we'd see

Adam once he returned.  He'd indicated he was going to share Whippet's flat and no doubt,

we surmised, his bed, but he'd be in the Library and in Pinch‑Bum's old rooms as well.  We

still had to meet the new Servant of the Chapel and the new First Year Organ Scholar so

those delights were to come.  I played the piano again ‑ I had missed it so much during the

holiday and I played several pieces Tris particularly liked.  As I played the last notes of the

Beethoven sonata he came and put his arms round me.

     "I need you badly, it's bed‑time," he said, nuzzling my ear.

     We finished off the bottle of wine we'd been sipping with and after our meal and

were soon stripped, washed and  ready for bed.  I was just about to get in my side when I saw

him contemplating the unmade‑up other bed.

     "Why are you looking at that?" I asked.

     "Just thinking.  As your brother doesn't want to come here for his half‑term I

wondered if I might just ask Pugsy.  I wouldn't mind the best of three falls or a submission

with that tough‑looking young cookie.  Wow...!"

     "You bastard!" I said leaping round to his side, "You leave well alone.  Just because I

had the same idea doesn't mean I wouldn't share him.  You planning to keep him for

yourself?"  I wrestled him over the bed.  "Share and share alike?"  I said as he laughed.

"Gotcha!" he said  and kissed me.

     After that there were no holds barred!  I said I was so horny.  I'd missed three nights

of loving and I needed comforting.  If I was horny, Tris was wanting comfort even more. We

tussled and wrestled and mauled and grappled until we'd explored every inch of each other's

bodies reminding ourselves that nothing had changed, grown, diminished, fallen off, or

deviated in any way from what we fondly recollected from Thursday night.  It was all

cylinders in action, especially two turgid, rampant, full‑bore instant pile‑drivers which ended

up plumbing the depths of two, in the end, utterly satisfied and exhausted lads.  "Fuck

Pugsy!" I'd said at one point, just as I was about to enter Tris for the second time.

"Anytime...!    ....Ooooh!!" he responded, as I pressed home the advantage of my seven and a

half inches.  "I bet Pugsy hadn't got anything like that...." I murmured as we lost ourselves in

immortal combat.   So began a year of the most intense and intensive loving which left us at

times feeling bruised and battered but always ready for more of the same.

     So, also, began a year where more mystery and mayhem would not be far away.