Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned:

Mark Henry Foster  The story‑teller:  Pennefather Organ Scholar

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

Oliver Jensen   A Musical undergraduate with allure

Damien FitzArnold        An accomplished painter

Alistair Jameson   His hairy-legged, accomplished nephew.

Gabriel Pack  An affable Aussie

Joshua Gibbons  His mindful cousin

Raphael Pack    Gabriel’s angelic brother

Angus Alexander McKenzie (Zack)   A young man with panache

[           “This is me little brother Raph,” said Gabe, not showing much enthusiasm, “Say hello!”  He poked the lad forward.]

            “Hi, Raph,” I said, giving him my best smile, “I’m Mark as Gabe’s no doubt told you.”  We shook hands.  His a rather limp one as if he wasn’t too pleased at being here but this didn’t quite chime with the smile.

            “Yeah, Gabe’s filled me in.  Pleased to meet ya,” he said and a bit more animation was evident in his response.  He looked around.  “This your room?”

            “Yes,” I said, “I’m rather lucky being the Pennefather Scholar but I think your brother’s and Gabe’s set isn’t too bad.”

            “Haven’t seen that yet.”

            A bit monosyllabic.  Gabe was not happy and Josh hadn’t said anything yet.  Usual ploy.

            “What about some tea?” I asked.

            Josh smiled at that and did a thumbs-up sign.  I had the impression he felt he was being let off the hook.  He went off to my kitchen and came back bearing a tray of cups and saucers plus the teapot and milk jug.  He’d also found the fruit cake Mum had baked for me.  While he was out I tried a bit more conversation but it was hard going.  Raph had gone over to the harpsichord and said he hadn’t seen one before.  I played a couple of snatches of a Bach Partita and he seemed intrigued with the sound.  “Do you play anything?” I asked.  He shook his head.  He was eyeing the organ stops around the room.  I suggested he pulled the Gambe one carefully.  This did animate him a bit more.  “Fuck me!” he breathed as the panel swung open.  I opened the door and explained what we’d discovered down below.  At least about the body.

            “Ya never told me that, Gabe,” he said, “Bloody interesting.”  He turned to me.  “Can I see down there.”  The light showed up the new, closed door.

            “Well, that’s what I want to talk to your brother and Josh about.”

            Thank goodness that was when Josh returned to the room.

            “Got a proposal for you two,” I said, as he set down the laden tray.  “Those wall paintings down below...”  Here Josh, the usual straight man in more senses than one, sniggered.  “.....the faces of most are blurred,” I continued, “they need to be repainted and we think they were stylised portraits of the originators and their pals....”

            “....I know, I know,” said Josh laughing, “You want to know whether we’d be models.  Not one with a tambourine for me.  That one with the big todger, though!  Bonzer!”

            Raph looked from Josh to me.  There was a bit more animation.  “What’s this?  What paintings?”

            That meant a full explanation and I managed to draw Gabe into the conversation with his part in giving me the clue of ‘Fiat Lux’.  But there was still a coolness between the two brothers.  I felt Raph was making an effort but Gabe was very sparing in his responses where Raph was concerned.  Yep!  They both agreed to be displayed.  Yep!  They had reasonable photographs.  I had a better idea.  I got my digital camera, bought with some of Uncle Francesco’s modelling money, and took a snap of each.  Tris had shown me how to load down and print out so I could give the results to Alistair in the morning.  They wanted to know when they could inspect the cellars and I said I’d better enquire of the ‘Grand Panjandrum’, dear Charles.  After more tea and cake, now sadly depleted, the older pair said they would go across to the Porter’s Lodge and collect their mail.  This left me with Raph.

            “Would you like to see the rest of my set?” I asked, “That’s what we call our rooms.”

            He nodded and I showed him the rest, my study, kitchen, bathroom and then the bedroom with the two four-poster beds.  I explained I was sharing with one of the Music students, Oliver Jensen, who would also be a face if he said ‘yes’.  He still looked a bit morose.  Now or never.

            “Are you OK?” I asked.  “You and Gabe don’t seem too friendly?  Want to talk about it?”

            Poor lad.  He sat down heavily on the edge of my bed, put his head in his hands and I though he was ready to weep.  I sat beside him and he leaned into me.  Somewhat tentatively I put my arm round his shoulder and drew him to me.

            “Sorry,” he murmured, “Shouldn’t be like this.  But everything’s been so sudden and I feel lost.”

            “Gabe hasn’t forgiven you?”

            He shook his head against me.

            “But he’s very happy here,” I said, “He’s got Lorenzo and Josh and he gets on well.”

            “Yep, don’t I bloody know!” he said emphatically, “But he thinks I betrayed him and he resents me for that.”

            “And your father?”

            He sniffed.  “Dad got fed up with me not doing anything.  And I fucked up again with a friend.”  He snorted.  “No fucking friend he turned out!”

            “But you’re here now and you can make new friends.  How’s Brad and the boys?”

            He managed a laugh.  “Bloody good.  They call me Beefcake and say I’d better mind my arse!”  He sat up.  “Shouldn’t say that.”  He shrugged his shoulders as I let go.  “They’ve tried their best with me and I’m grateful.”  He drew out a handkerchief and blew his nose.

            “What about Josh?”

            “He’s a mate but he has to mind what Gabe thinks.”

            “I think your friends here will have to deal with Gabe?”

            “Friends?”

            “Me, Oliver and one or two others.”

            He looked a bit puzzled.  “You don’t know me?” he said.

            “I’ve met you today and if you’ll allow it I would like to be a friend.  Your brother is a good friend of mine and I think I can intercede, with help.  Are you willing?”

            He looked round at me and the smile was there.  He flung his arms around me.  “Please!”

            We stood up and went into the main room..  “You know I’m gay?” I said.

            He nodded.  “So’s Gabe and it doesn’t bother me.”  He was silent for a moment.  “Don’t tell Gabe but I’m not sure about myself.”

            There was a noise of the returning pair in the entrance hall.

            “Don’t say any more now,” I said, “Come and have a chat.”  I scribbled on a piece of paper on the piano.  “Here’s my mobile number.”  He took it and smiled.  He seemed more relaxed.

            “Fuck me!” came Gabe’s less than dulcet tones as he entered the room, “All this bloody dunny fodder!”  He was carrying a great bundle of the usual pigeon-hole detritus.  He looked at Raph and me standing side by side.  He must have sensed something but kept his mouth shut.  I took the initiative.

            “If you’re not doing anything this evening what about me taking you all out to dinner?”  I knew Gabe liked the Café Rouge.  “Café Rouge do?  My shout. Uncle Francesco has been generous and I got a modelling fee.”  I pointed at the prominently displayed open lads’ magazine on the piano.

            “Bloody hell!” was Josh’s response as he gazed at the full page spread.  “Bloody set of wankers!”

            I laughed.  “Don’t judge everyone by your own habits,” I said, “If you’re good you might get an invite next year.  That is, if Unc makes clothes big enough to fit the pair of you.”  I looked at Raph who was smirking.  “Trendy wear for the musclebound, eh Raph?”

            Gabe did laugh.  “Always fancied you in that green bloody outfit.”

            I looked at Raph.  He was about the same size as me.  “Raph can borrow it tonight if he likes.  No need to go back to Brad’s.”

            At that moment there was a knock on the door.  It was Charles.

            “My dears, I thought I spied you from my eyrie.  Have you had a good vacation in glorious Italy?”

            Josh took the initiative.  “Bloody marvellous.  Lo took Gabe off to visit an Aunt further down so I was left with Raph for a week.”

            Charles looked past him.  “And this is the inestimable Raphael, the affable archangel?   My dear, Charles Fane-Stuart at your service.”  He bowed and held out a be-ringed hand which Raph took rather gingerly then changed to a hearty handshake.

            “Glad to meet you,” he said in a much more positive tone, “Mum always said I was the sociable angel.”

            “Dear Milton’s description and I hope it fits,” said Charles bowing his head again, “You must visit Christ’s and view his mulberry tree.”  I heard Gabe grunt.

            Better get things fixed.  While the others listened, with Josh grinning from ear to ear and Gabe beginning to thaw a bit more, I told Charles of the planned reconstruction of the faces.  He agreed.  I didn’t say which one Alistair had indicated but....  Then I invited him as well to the meal.  He agreed again.  I thought he might liven things up a bit in any case.  Charles then suggested Gabe and Josh should move back into their set even before term began.  He said they wouldn’t be charged their lodging fee as he wanted to see if they approved of the improvements which had been done while they were away.  He listed three things, a new shower unit, a new gas fire and a new fridge.

            They went off with Charles to inspect and Raph was again left with me.  We grinned at each other.  “You’ll get used to him,” I said.

            “I think I have already,” was the laconic reply.

            I took him through to the bedroom and laid out the green Matteoli outfit and left him to change.  It fitted him well and I hoped Gabe would look on his brother in a more favourable light.

            We had a most convivial evening.  Charles was in his element.  He liked to spar verbally with Gabe and Gabe responded in kind and even smiled when his brother joined in and asked questions about the College.  Also, Josh looked quite relaxed and relieved and I felt I had accomplished something.

            I achieved something else.  Raphael stayed that night with me.  My bed.  The lad who didn’t know was a convincing lover.  He confessed he’d had sex with a couple of girls and two of his mates but he preferred being bottom, as I knew his brother did.  His smile of triumph as I looked down on him as I fucked him for the second time and he shot his load quite spontaneously was proof of his enjoyment of that form of the sexual act.  We lay for a long time after those two intense bouts of lovemaking and talked as we held each other and felt each other and looked at each other.  Raph was so pleased that his brother seemed to have thawed out towards him.  He was so effusive in his praise I could only silence him by the age-old method of rolling him diagonally across the bed and indulging in a third, lengthy sexual session of sixty-nining this time, a technique he hadn’t experienced before.

            After he surfaced and we kissed and shared our almost simultaneous outpourings he said he never knew that lovemaking could be so incredibly wonderful.  I thought that too.  Sex of that calibre with a virtually naive blond angel of a lad was something to savour for a long time.  It was so like the almost uncountable times with Tris, but then, Tris wasn’t naive.   I would have to confess to Tris but I knew he would understand.  Perhaps Raph would share his sun-kissed frame with Tris as well?  We would have to see.

            Gabe and Josh appeared for their usual run.  Neither seemed surprised when Raph appeared all togged out in a spare set of my running gear.  I had thought they might have assumed Raph had made the journey back to Brad’s.  No, both knew full well Raph had stayed the night with me and from the blissful look on his face they both knew there was little doubt Raph had enjoyed his stay.  In fact the next day, Gabe, in his usual forthright way while he, Josh and I were having afternoon tea in my room, thanked me for showing his brother the ‘true path of righteousness’, as he put it, and thought the little bugger had got himself sorted out.  I said it was up to him now to sort out any differences between the pair of them.  He smiled.  “I’d forgive that little bastard anything.  I’ve just been a bloody grunt!”   Josh by his side beamed.  I knew he was fond of his young cousin and now the rift was healed.

            Friday came and Adam appeared again looking happy and well content.  He said he’d checked every date and reference so far needed and had written up a fair draft of another chapter.  Fast worker!  I said I’d met Gabe’s brother and he raised his eyebrows.  “Met?” he asked.  I think the way I had rather enthused about him must have given him a clue.  “You watch your step, me lad,” he said, “You upset Tris and your balls are forfeit.”  I said that had been Frankie’s threat when I had described Oliver to him.  No!  The bond between Tris and me was too strong.  But, I still had to confess the ‘bit on the side’.   He laughed.  “Shouldn’t spread gossip but Frankie said Bozo’s been seen in Tris’s company several times.”  I would have to have a serious talk with my young brother.  And Tris!

            I enjoyed the motorbike ride to Ulvescott.  It was a bright, sunny day and the wind whistled past me as we sped, at a reasonable speed, towards our goal.  We arrived before Frankie and Tris and after tea with the three older ones I was shown the computer set up which the Thomson twins had designed and expanded over the years.  Two young men were busy dealing with the printouts which were piling up.  I recognised both as having been Final Year students in College when I was in my First Year.  I was told that the printouts were analyses of rises and falls in share values so that any adjustments to investments could be made before stock exchanges closed for the weekend.  One laughed and said his bonus depended on making the right judgement.  As some of the amounts being dealt with looked astronomical I wondered if I should concentrate more on financial analysis and IT and less on the arcane reaches of Pure Mathematics.  They laughed and said I would see even more at the Cambridge offices because that was where the big decisions were made.

            As soon as Tris arrived I went up to Piers’ room with him and hugged him and made my confession.  He hugged me back and made his, too.  Frankie’s message to Adam was intended to be passed on.  Tris had initiated Bozo fully into everything boys could do together.  But, Bozo had now linked up with the lad he thought might be interested and Tris was now his confidante as well.  The two lads hadn’t gone further than a few chaste kisses so far but... ....time would tell.  At least Bozo now knew how to take things further.

            As we lay on the bed just holding each other as we told our tales Tris gave me a letter from Bozo.  It was full of love and affection for both of us and the hope that whatever he and Tris had done would not jeopardize our relationship.  He finished ‘If only boys like us could have such tender and loving friends as you and Tris to guide us always it would make life so much easier.  This must be true for those who prefer the other path as well.  All I hear at school is of worries and frustrations so I count myself so lucky I have had you and Tris as good and honourable mentors.  My most grateful thanks, with all my love, James (Bozo) Bowes-Chesterton’.

            So, we had both had adventures outside our partnership.  We laughed and said perhaps that was our role in life - helping others to come to terms with their feelings - if so, we had really enjoyed our tutoring.  “Not too much of that good thing,” said Tris, “I don’t want a clapped-out old boyfriend who compares me with all the bright young things he’s shagged...”

            I silenced him with a kiss.  “...I did not ‘shag’ Raph as you so coarsely put it.  I gave him my love and he accepted it...”

            “....I know, I know,” he said and reciprocated the kiss, “It was the same with me and Bozo.  He’s a real charmer and although he has quite a macho image and body to go with it, he’s quite sweet and tender.  I like him very much and he and Harpo, as they call him, should make a fine couple.”

            “Harpo?”  I asked.

            Tris laughed.  “What else would Frankie, alias Gobbo, call someone who plays the French Horn and whose surname is Parks?”

            We all assembled for dinner at seven.  Adam and the two old gentlemen were a bit late as they had retired to the study to discuss what Adam had been doing during the week.  He looked relieved when they emerged still talking about some shared experience many years ago.  As we sipped our pre-prandial drinks it was my turn.  I described what had happened so far over the cellars and the proposed ‘Celebration of the Sacred and Secular’ exhibition.  I had some photos of the middle cellar walls with the uncovered depictions and there was great hilarity as I passed them round.  I explained that Alistair Jameson was to restore the damaged images to their former glory and that the blurred faces would be repainted to commemorate contemporary members of the College who were associated with the discovery in some way.

            I had just got to that point when dinner was announced and we filed in and took our places.  There was a quiet murmur as we settled and began our first course.  It was a tasty light goat’s cheese tartlet with a herb salad and an exquisite dressing.  So, it was while the plates were being removed and the main course was being served by the usual students from the Catering College that the elder Doctor Thomson asked whose faces would be appearing.  I listed Gabriel, as someone who had set off the solution of the code, Charles, Tris, Josh and so on.  Frankie and Adam were sitting together and I left them until last.  I said I would be in the main picture but it was very difficult to decide who would be depicted for the man and boy picture.  I said I had thought of the Master and one of the kitchen-boys, which caused quite a giggle from the diners, but there were three people who had prior claim.

            “Three?” said Frankie, “But there’s only two in that picture.”

            “You’ve studied it, then,” said the younger Doctor Thomson.

            Toad went a bit red.  “Couldn’t help it.  It was the first thing I saw when it was still mostly covered up.”

            “So you wouldn’t mind being the lad in the picture as you’ll be the next owner of the cellar?” I asked.

            He went bright red as the full blush appeared.  “Oh, no!” he said, then giggled again, “Oh, yes please!!”  Everyone laughed, too.  “But who’s going to be the one....”  He stopped before he said ‘feeling my balls’.

            “I think a composite of the heavenly twins might be appropriate,” I said, looking straight at Adam sitting opposite.  “But we don’t want any help with the.....”  My words were lost in the gale of laughter which erupted and Adam’s blush matched Frankie’s.

            Frankie turned to Adam.  “I would be honoured to be seen in your and Ivo’s company - I mean, hands!”

            “Cheeky little...” he started then guffawed himself.  “You annoy me and I might squeeze!”  He looked across at me.  “OK, I’m in for it.   I’ll phone Ivo tonight and tell him he’s there as well.  People can guess whose face it is really.  There’s a scar and a mole between us so both had better be there!”

            I would also do some phoning later.  Ally had said he would be working all over the weekend and I’d already given him photos of Frankie and the Thugs so he could get cracking!

            I then said that Charles Fane-Stuart had found out who had instigated the whole affair.  I explained it happened in 1769 when the set was shared by two brothers named Lascelles who had been sent down later for unCollegiate behaviour..

            There was a gasp and then a stunned silence from most of the assembled diners.

            “You said Lascelles?” asked the older Doctor Thomson very quietly.

            I nodded.  That name!  It hit me then.  I hadn’t taken much notice of the foreword to the translated book.

            Doctor Thomson smiled and the others all began to laugh again.  “Seventeen sixty-nine you said?”  I nodded.  “The pair who commissioned that book didn’t go to either Oxford or Cambridge and we were puzzled about that.  They must have been the next generation and they must have been banned.”

            “The brothers who were sent down were found with four boys from the town,” I said.

            “It fits,” he said, “None of the family are listed as being students at Cambridge until the early 1800's once the dust had settled, or the past events forgotten, I assume.  And certainly not at St Mark’s.”  He laughed.  “I was at College at Clare with a Lascelles and he was introduced to me, not in his presence I must add, as the Abominable Arseholes by the Porter.  Apparently it was an inherited family nickname.  Mud sticks and so do nicknames.”

            “But Uncle Chas wasn’t like that,” said the younger Doctor Thomson, “He got married and I know one of his sons.”

           “I’m sure a brother was.  It certainly ran in that family from what old Lord Harford told us.  And his grandson, Henry, was almost certainly....”  He turned to the Colonel.  “...He died recently.  His obit was in the Times.  Made a fortune importing exotic foods from the Continent.”

            The Colonel snorted.  “And died of some exotic affliction, no doubt.  We had to get him out of a couple of scrapes some years ago even though he was in the Service.”

            I looked around the table.  It was good there were no females present, I thought.  I wasn’t used to open discussions like this with adults, and elderly ones as well,  but no one seemed to mind.  Frankie, I could see, was all ears.  ‘The Service’, I guessed meant MI5 or whatever.    The look on Frankie’s face showed he’d made the same deduction and  he’d want to know more.  He was itching to ask questions and I bet there would be plenty said afterwards about ‘exotic afflictions’.  Adam’s face was a picture, too.  I waited to see what he had to say.  I wasn’t disappointed.

            “There’s a Lascelles at St Mark’s at the moment,” said Adam.  “He’s hyphenated, ‘Lascelles-Wright’.  Has St Mark’s relented after all these years?”

            “Safar’s coming tomorrow,” said the Sheik, “He can tell us.  I’ll ask him to check when I talk to him later.”  He looked at me with his dark eyes.  They seemed to twinkle behind his glasses.  “Any more revelations, Mark, as I think your brother seems ready to ask questions, too.”  He looked at Frankie who went red again.  “No offence, my boy, but when I was your age I was as innocent as a new-born lamb.  That was until my eighteenth birthday and I met Lachlan and his brother and Jacko!”

            Oh dear, that would fuel more questions from Frankie at some point.  I said that was all I knew.  The relevant passage in the records was in Latin which always seemed to be used to cover any indelicacies.

            “You’d better start learning Latin, Frankie,” said Adam, “Then you could write your memoirs as well!”

            Poor Frankie.  He was being teased and blushed again.  He wasn’t beaten.  He looked at the Sheik.  “All yours are in English, sir?”

            The Sheik laughed.  “I can assure you all are in English though I do mention one or two items in Arabic - but nothing sensational.  Nothing to bring a blush to a maiden’s or a young gentleman’s cheek.”  He had the measure of Frankie who saw the joke and grinned.

            That night in Piers’ room Tris and I made love so quietly, but so passionately, flooding each other with our joy and complete harmony, we knew that any other ventures were minor in comparison with our togetherness.  In one single act of love we made up for the time we had not been together.  Tomorrow would give us another opportunity to accumulate even more sufficiency to carry us through to another weekend.

            The weekend passed much too quickly.  Safar said as far as he knew no-one had questioned Christopher Lascelles-Wright’s application so College memories didn’t go back as far as the 1700's even if some of his colleagues looked pretty ancient.  There was some discussion about family trees but we would have to wait to see if he was related in any way to the miscreants.  Doctor Thomson said he would get in touch with the present Lord Harford who he knew well and Adam said he would quiz Christopher carefully at the beginning of term when he was in College again.  Another little mystery to clear up.

            The journey back with Jak and Max was full of fun and gossip.  They said if ever I was stuck I could find a job with them as long as I didn’t spend too long losing my computer virginity as I put it.  I heard more about the family and its ramifications and how Jak and Saf got their names.  Jak said how his Uncle Lachs, the Colonel,  was convinced my brother was  a reincarnation of Flea, his own long dead golden-haired brother.  Frankie might be black-haired and head and shoulders taller but he had that spark and that twinkle.  Huh, I’d give him twinkle, I  said, and rather naughtily recounted his loss of virginity and the subsequent pursuit of Minky.  They laughed.  Jak said how impressed his brother had been at the way Frankie had interacted with his two boys.  In fact, young Jeremy was constantly asking ‘when was Frankie coming to see them?’.  I said  I had no doubt that Frankie would get married and he would have sons to take to Ulvescott, too.  He just had to find someone who could cope with his incessant demands and that wouldn’t be easy.

            “Straights don’t know they’ve lived.” said Max,  ”I spent five years fucking everything on two legs.  In fact one of my friends said anything with three as well if the dog stood still but that was a damned lie!”

            Jak just laughed again.  “He’s settled now and I have no trouble with him.  I just have to report to my dear brother who is so, so, inquisitive.”

            I said how like Adam and Ivo he and Saf were.  Was it being twins?

            “No, it’s being part of the family,” said Jak.

            Monday afternoon I went and had a look at the set-up in the very modern building in the Cambridge Science Park.  I was bemused by the number of work stations, as they called them, all busily manned, or womaned,  with an air of quiet efficiency and purpose.  I met Khaled Al-Hamed and he said I was welcome to visit anytime.  He’d heard all about me from his brother and he and Troy, his partner, had thoroughly enjoyed my father’s recital, the family do and my recital.  I hadn’t realised he had been there.  “You need anything, let me know!” was his final remark.

            Tuesday afternoon Jak and Max came with me to see the cellars.  They were most impressed - even more when they saw what Ally had accomplished in the middle cellar.  “Just like that bloody book!” was Max’s comment.  Jak said the only thing missing on the representation of me and my brother were the birthmarks.  I had to explain to Ally and both Jak and I were commanded to lower our trousers so he could copy the marks on the appropriate figures.   That evening I took the pair out to dinner, and Damien and Ally came along, too.  It was a most enjoyable time but, sadly, we all parted afterwards and I never found out how far up those lovely, long, hairy legs went.  Anyway, it was quite evident that dear Ally was quite, quite straight!

            I spent the rest of the time that second week practising the piano, playing the harpsichord and finishing off my contemplation of James Tanner’s manuscript and the problems he had set at the end of each chapter.  The note on his door must have meant a future Wednesday as he still wasn’t around.  On Thursday the organ builder pronounced the organ fit to play and I spent an hour trying out all the stops over his lunch-time while he sat at the back of the Chapel with his assistant and they ate their sandwiches.  All was well, just a couple of minor adjustments to the 8ft Gedackt on the Choir and the Swell Oboe were needed.  I played for another hour after they had gone and decided that if I was going to try for the Fellowship after Christmas I’d better do some serious practice and do some study for the Paperwork part of the exam.  I wasn’t too bothered about the Extemporisation section as I enjoyed playing with themes and snatches of the hymns and extending these.  I remembered this was the part of the exam which worried Matt Thyssen so much and we’d taken turns in choosing bits of hymn-tunes which he had to work on.  He passed so that was an indication for me that I could do as well if not better.

            I arranged with Charles for Jason to be let off the lead, as I put it, on Friday morning and gave him an hour’s lesson on the organ.  He said he’d taken Grade Eight piano as well at Easter and had passed. He never told me he’d passed at Distinction level.  Liam told me that later with quiet pride.

            I met Tris at the Bus Station on Friday afternoon and we could hardly wait to get back to my rooms.  After that bout of sensuousness we went off to the Club to see what the arrangements were for Whippet’s send-off on Saturday evening.  Shawn was setting up a surprise happening and we didn’t enquire too far.  He was rather worried though.  Bulgy’s main help in serving drinks to customers had gone to a job in a big gay bar in London and assistance was needed.  In my talks with Raph I found he’d earned money when he was spent out serving in a Sydney bar.  I had his mobile number and asked if he would like to earn some cash.  He was intrigued.   I explained it was the gay Club that Brad and all us others frequented and luckily he had turned eighteen just three weeks before so was eligible for membership and employment there.  As an aside I said we would mind his arse as I politely put it .  He gave a throaty laugh, and said he knew Brad was getting ready to go out so he would tag along.

            Even just standing behind the bar that evening he was a sensation.  I said if he wanted he could pop into College Saturday morning and he could have my green Matteoli outfit.  With that on he would be a walking advert as well as looking quite phenomenal and bewitching to the clientele.  So Saturday morning it was Tris’s turn to be introduced to the ravishing, and somewhat ravished, angelic lad.   They got on so well I wondered if Tris would bed him straight away.  As it was we took him into Hall for lunch with the few undergraduates and postgraduates around and he got approving stares especially from a covey of elderly dons on High Table.

            “Going to come here,” he breathed as he surveyed the panelled walls and the ancient oil-paintings.  He smiled.  “I’m taking my A levels this year.  D’ya think I’ve a chance?”

            Having seen the glances from a don I knew taught Economic History I suggested he applied for Economics.  He smiled again.  “I’m doing that for A Level!”  You’re in, my boy, I thought!  Just work hard.  Especially on that smile.

            After he’d gone off back to Brad’s bearing a Moss Bros bag with the Matteoli outfit in it there was another surprise.  Tris and I were about to prepare afternoon tea when who should bang on the door but Oliver accompanied by Zack.  Of course, Whippet was Zack’s idol and now he was eighteen himself he could come to the Club.

            “Bit of a surprise for Dude,” explained Oliver, “He hasn’t a clue that Zack will be there.  In fact he’s in for a big surprise.”

            Neither would let on what was to happen and after they’d scoffed the cakes I’d earmarked for Sunday’s tea they went off with Zack looking quite animated - not the usual rather solemn lad.  Tris looked at me.  “I thought that pair were well-suited when we were at the Villa - they certainly are now!”

            The Club was crowded when we arrived.  There was an air of ill-concealed excitement.  Something was afoot.  Brad was already there with Carlo and Davy plus his son and his friend.  Jonty was hovering looking smug about something but there was no Danny.  There was a smiling Raph already behind the bar and Bulgy-Boy took over so Raph could bring us our drinks.

            “Bloody hell!” he murmured as he bent down to set my drink on the table, “It’s fucking fantastic.  Had three five pound notes tucked into me keks already!”

            Tris overheard this.  “If you like I’ll help you get them out if they go down too far.  I’ve got slim hands.”

            He got the electrifying smile.  “Might take you up on that, mate, if I get outta here alive.”  He nodded towards the bar.  “There’s a couple of oldies there who keep peeping at me goods.”

            I recognised Godfrey and his friend who propped up the bar most nights.  “Don’t worry,” I said, “Keep the drink flowing to them.  You’ll need to call a taxi for them later but get Bulgy-Boy to see them to it.  He’s their boy.”

            He nodded.  “Thanks.  Don’t want to upset him.  He’s great!  God! he must have a big’un!”

            “Not from what we’ve heard,” Tris whispered.

            That smile again.  “Gotta find out!”

            He gave us the thumb’s up and went round taking more orders.

            Gabe and Lorenzo, with  Josh in tow, sauntered in, not spotting Raph.  “There’s a bloody turn-out tonight,” said Gabe as he dropped heavily onto the seat next to me.  “I’m buggered.  Spent the afternoon with the weights.  Need a drink.”  He turned to Lorenzo and Josh who had drawn up chairs in his wake.  “Usual?”  They nodded.  Gabe stuck a meaty paw up in the air.  What that would accomplish in the crowd I didn’t know.  But...  A green-shirted and tight-trousered figure appeared with three large gin and tonics clinking with ice and a slice of lime, their ‘usual’ as they’d moved on from the Diet Cokes on their initial visits.  It took a moment for Gabe to recognise the figure as he reached for the tall glass.

            “Fucking Hell!”  He appraised the smiling Viking with the shiny blond pony-tail.  “Raph, you’re a fucking beaut!”  He turned to Lorenzo.  “Whadd’ya say, Lo?  Look at me little brother.”  He shook his head.  “Fucking beaut!”

            Raph gave him a dazzling smile.  “Gotta rush, Gabe, very busy tonight.”  He turned and went quickly back to the bar with Gabe staring at his retreating figure and slowly shaking his head.  “Fucking beaut!”  he said quietly as he turned to look at his beloved Lorenzo and his adored cousin Josh.  I was about to say something but was interrupted by seeing Oliver peering across the crowd to find us in our usual place.  He was with Dude.  No Zack?  He held a finger up to his lips as he pushed through following the burly Dude.  Tris had seen him, too, and we both knew not to ask questions.

            As Dude came over and sat by Brad he looked rather puzzled.  “What the Hell!” he said as he adjusted his leather chaps as he sat down, “There’s a crowd here tonight and the bastards kept grinning at me as I came through.”

            “Must be the new hat,” Brad said, “I haven’t seen ‘Kiss Me Quick’ on one since a trip to Blackpool.”

            Dude looked even more puzzled and whipped his cap off and peered at it.  “You’re pulling me pisser, Chief!” he said when he realised there was no offending inscription.  He was stopped from any more comments by Raph coming up and placing three bottles of the non-alcoholic lager he always drank on the table in front of him.

            “Compliments of the Management,” he announced and went off speedily back to the bar.

            “Oh fuck, Chief!  Did I just see your new lodger?  You’ve got him working here?  No wonder everyone’s out in force.  They’re all hoping for a piece of the action except he’s straight!”

            I was sitting opposite and just grinned to myself.  Something you don’t know, mate, I thought.  Dude took a backwards look at Raph now picking up a tray of orders from Bulgy-Boy.

            “Isn’t that your outfit he’s wearing?” he asked, looking across at me.

            “Yes,” I said airily, “Bit of advertising for my Uncle and I’ll get a percentage of the profits.  I’ve had seventeen orders already.”  I pulled out a piece of paper from my pocket on which I’d scribbled a couple of phone numbers.  “Need anything trendy to liven up your image a bit when you’re up in the Smoke?”

            He realised I was pulling his pisser as well as Tris had let out a guffaw.  “I’ll fucking Smoke you!” he said laughing, “I’ll find my own way round the London scene, thank you!  But something like that wouldn’t come amiss!”  He grinned at me and, clasping his hands, displayed his biceps and pecs swelling out his shirt and leather jacket.

            That gave me a great idea.  The three muscly naked Satyrs needed faces, too.  Charles was convinced the originals were Fellows of the College, or even the Master, of the time.  Brad, Dude and Carlo!  Knowing that something was planned for the evening I’d slung my digital camera round my neck and had already taken a couple of pics of Jonty and one of the other lads dancing.  Brad and Dude had seen the originals so here goes.

            I leaned across the table and with Tris’s helpful interjections said about the plans for the faces of the participants in the revels, but....  Here I paused.  “...There are three special figures and we assume they’re a bit older than those others...”  Tris let out another guffaw, he had realised the way the story was going.  “...We need three a little more mature faces.  Still handsome, a little bearded perhaps...”  Here I looked at Brad who was beginning to chuckle.  “...But...”   Here I was interrupted by Brad.

            “No good looking at those two,” he said pointing at Dude and Carlo, “They’ve got nothing to compare with what I saw a couple of weeks ago when Nat showed me round again.  I think I match up to ‘Festina Lente’.”  He pointed to Dude again.  “I’ll relent.  Tiny Todge there can be the Greek and that beefy bugger..” pointing at a puzzled Carlo, “...can be ‘Hasten Slowly’!  Matches his wits.”

            Having witnessed and experienced Dude’s ‘Tiny Todge’ in action I knew it wasn’t far off the massive erection on the first Satyr and I was sure the ‘beefy bugger’ was well-hung, too, from the definite erections he had most evenings after dancing with Davy and what I’d felt pressed against me on several occasions as we’d shimmied across the floor.  All had to be explained to Carlo as he hadn’t seen the cellars yet.  I had photos in my camera so he peered at them with a ‘Bloody Hell!’ as each was revealed.

            “You want my face on that one?” he said as he pointed at the third Satyr with the drum and stick.  “What’s my Mum going to say when she sees that thing?”

            “Must have seen it plenty of times when she was changing your nappies.” said Tris.

            “Grown since then,” said a grinning Carlo.

            There was a chorus of ‘Boast!’, ‘Bet it hasn’t!’ and ‘Check it!”

            He shook his head, then grinned and looked at Brad.  “If the Chief has his face up there, I will.”  He jabbed his finger at Brad, “And, Sir, we’ll forget the jibe about my wits!”

            I took three quick pictures before there was any more argument.  I wondered how long they would remain anonymous.  I guessed there would be much speculation about all the models anyway.  As Satyrs, Dude and Carlo would have beards added anyway, but as Brad already had a neat one I would have to get Alistair to emphasize the shagginess of the Satyr with the pipes to keep everyone guessing.

            The noise in the Club was rising steadily as people started to gather round closer to us.  I noted that both Bulgy-Boy and Raph were handing out drinks to everyone.  There was a tray brought over and placed on our table.  A drink for all of us sitting there.  As soon as that was set down there was a loud hooting noise and a trolley was pushed in from the other room.  On it was a painted-up cardboard representation of a huge cake with ‘Best wishes Dude’, ‘‘Ello, ‘Ello, ‘Ello’, and  ‘Good Luck from All!’ emblazoned round it with stars, hearts and stripes of various colours completing the design.

            The trolley stopped by our table and, to a roll of drums over the sound system and a great cheer from everyone crowded round, the top burst open and three glistening tanned figures appeared from inside the cake.  Each was wearing an imitation policeman’s helmet found in any tourist shop on Oxford Street, each had an old-fashioned policeman’s moustache glued on, and each brandished a policeman’s truncheon, all carved suspiciously with what looked like a dick head on the end.  Two of the lads had a pair of furry joke handcuffs in their other hands but the third had a silver replica of the motorbike Dude was so proud of.  The three leapt from the cake and the place exploded with wolf-whistles and even more cheers.

            Two were Danny and Curt, the third was Zack who held out the bike to a startled Dude.  The wolf-whistles and cheers were because each was nude other than wearing a tight-fitting, well-filled, silver lame posing pouch.  Ouch, Zack’s sun-tanned bubble-butt had been a constant erection maker on holiday and here it was again in full view.  I had an immediate reaction.  Tris must have guessed as I felt a hand over my equipment and a slow squeeze occurred.  “Got to keep you under control, young man,” he whispered.

            “Do that a bit more and I’ll cum in my pants,” I whispered back.  The hand was removed.  I looked round at him.  He had a great smirk on his face.  “Same!” he mouthed.

            A microphone was thrust into Zack’s hand.  “From all of us, with love and best wishes.  We’ll make sure you don’t have to feel our collars....”  The mike was snatched from him by the winsomely handsome Curt.  “...You can feel mine any time!...”  The third, a lithe and well-toned Danny, leaned over, “...And anywhere else!”

            The uproar increased and not only Raph received notes and coins thrust at him as the three lads clustered round a laughing and blushing Dude, shaking his hand and giving him a kiss  each.  I managed to stick some coins down the front of each pouch and, when the three at last pushed their way through the throng, three weighed down, jangling pouches were much in evidence.

            The rest of us then toasted Dude who, sport that he was, stood up and held his bottle high.  “Any of you lot around Westminster any time will feel my boot up your backside....” he paused, “...Unless you accept a drink tonight!  Drinks all round!”  He pointed the bottle at Bulgy-Boy and Raph who seemed to be already primed with laden trays.

            I don’t remember much more as I imbibed a bit more than usual but did recollect being poured out of a taxi at the back gate of the College and finally helping Tris as we stripped each other off and fell into bed.  I woke on Sunday morning with a small man hammering my brain and something over the lower half of my face.  The little man’s hammering diminished somewhat as I took a couple of deep breaths and opened my eyes.  My deep breaths had detected a slight sweaty smell coupled with the aroma of an expensive body spray.  The object draped over my chin was Zack’s silver lame posing pouch.  I turned and peered at the other bed.  Two heads were side by side on the pillows.  Of course, Oliver and Zack.

            Yes, I remembered a bit more.  Dancing with the three almost nude lads in turn and Tris taking our photos.  I remembered also a hurried visit to the bogs to wipe up the results of the spontaneous emission I’d had when being in Zack’s clutches.  I sniffed again.  There was a third rather familiar odour.  I put up a hand and felt the pouch.  It was more than damp.  I grinned.  I hope Zack came when I did.  He must have guessed about me, too.  I looked across again as I held that moistness and put it to my nose again.  Oh God!  Just that caused the hardest and strongest erection I regularly experienced.  I turned to Tris who was spooned, still asleep, into my back.  I woke him with gentle nuzzles, kisses and caresses and two, totally in love, nude boys drew each other’s morning outbursts with firm movements of clenching fists.  Two streams of warm semen were merged as we held each other tightly and feathered each other’s lips with tongues as our passion abated and we lay content and satiated.

            As we lay in our own serene calm Tris rubbed his cheek against mine as we were both beginning to be aware of the muffled sounds of  intense intimacy taking place in the adjoining bed.  I thought we’d been so quiet but even the slight movements and murmurs we had made must have woken and alerted the other pair.  Soon there was a more than audible gasp from Zack followed by a quieter exhalation from Oliver as two other lads reached the apices of their love for each other.  There was a stillness for at least another quarter of an hour while four youngsters luxuriated in the aftermath of such intense sexual feelings.  Tris broke the spell.  Our spunk had almost dried because of the heat of our bodies so we were slightly stuck together as we moved apart.  “Gotta pee,” he whispered as he slid out of bed on his side furthest from the other bed.  The urgency could not have been too great as he slipped round the front of our bed and lightly kissed the two cheeks facing each other on the other bed.  “Love you both,” I heard him whisper as he then went to the lav.

            Two heads turned to look at me.  I held up the jockstrap thing and grinned.  “Thanks, I love you, too,” I whispered as well.  Two lithe bodies separated and joined me in my bed with hugs and kisses.  By the time Tris came back we were giggling as Zack said he’d realised I’d had a ‘little accident’, as he put it, and this had caused the same for him just as we had parted company at the end of the dance and he was rushing back to where his clothes were in a side room.  “Thought I’d drip on the floor if I didn’t hurry.”  He laughed.  “His idea to put it on you.”  Poor Oliver.  Tris and I rolled onto him and I had the pleasure of making a nosebag for him of the pouch of the jockstrap so he could inhale the scents of his lover.  He made no effort to remove it as we let go of him.  “My Zack,” he murmured.  Zack put his head over him and kissed his lips, the pouch between them.  They both inhaled deeply and kissed again.

            I needed a pee too, so went to the bathroom and then put the electric kettle on and got the teapot and mugs ready.  When I returned the three of them were in a huddle on the bed with Oliver and Zack either side of Tris with Tris wearing the jockstrap like a scrum-cap.  “Might borrow this anyway for the first match I play for the Old Boys.  It’ll cause a sensation when I strip off after the game.  Better than Tolly Powers last year here with his Union Jack jock.”  He leered at me.  “Might get a few offers!  Your pal Milton’s in the team and I know he fancied you.”

            “He did not fancy me,” I said archly, “We were just good friends.”

            “Thank goodness for that,” said Tris, “I don’t think I could have competed with what he’s got!”

            While we drank our morning cuppa, interspersed with Zack and Oliver also needing to pee, stories of school-life were recounted and each confessed of making surreptitious, and sometimes more than surreptitious, inspections of other lads’ equipment.  Zack said here was one weedy lad in their Lower Sixth who had the most ginormous hanging dong but bemoaned the fact he could never get a full erection.  He said a couple of the others had measured it and it was nearly eight inches, down or up.  Oliver admitted he liked to see lads with low-hanging balls.  As Zack had a very nice, well-formed pair that was a plus for him.  Yep, mine weren’t too bad either and I expect that was another reason Oliver and I hit it off so well.  But then, my Tris.  I worshipped his set.  That lovely, foreskin capped length and those golden haired, softly skinned plums that hung below.  I could never get enough of just holding those hard centred orbs in the palm of my hand revelling in the weightiness of those mighty producers of  his most delicious boycream.  I knew his greatest delight as we set out on any of our sexual encounters was just to hold my own balls in his hand, perhaps, just for a few seconds, but enough time to know that somewhere within a production line was busy creating my own copious boyjuice just for him to receive with all my love.

            We didn’t go for a run that morning.  An hour just sitting or lying in bed experiencing the true companionship of four young males, all in the prime of their sexual being, was too precious to break up too suddenly.  Tris was the first to move again.  “Have a shower and I’ll get breakfast ready.  Something substantial to get our energy back.”

            Four contented and happy young men, clean and now sweet-smelling, sat and munched through cereals, then plates of eggs, bacon and fried tomatoes and, finally, demolished almost a full pot of Cooper’s Oxford Marmalade on masses of toast.   I thought, Sainsbury’s here I come!

            “Can I always be as happy as this?” murmured Zack, as he set down his mug after the third filling of coffee.

            “Don’t raise your hopes, young’un,” said Tris, emptying the remains of the cafetiere into his own mug, “You come here as Servant of the Chapel and you’ll have every Tom, Dick and Henry wanting you to hear their confessions because they mistake you for the Chaplain and all the young ladies wanting to meet you in the vestry after the services and then there’s the endless lectures and the boring essays and the dons grumbling because you’ve missed out an apostrophe and Charles wringing his hands and wanting to know why you haven’t scrubbed the stairs properly after some rugger-bugger has sicked his guts up...”

            Zack laughed.  “...I think I can cope with all that lot, other than the young ladies in the vestry, and I’ll hear your confessions anytime!  Anyway, I’m not here yet.” He grinned.  “I do have an interview at the beginning of October.”  He put his hands together.  “You’d better pray for me!”

            I looked at him.  That very solemn lad, protecting his sister from unwanted predators in that shop, was now blossoming out into the most wonderful, lively young man.  I looked at Oliver across the table.  He looked me straight in the eyes and nodded.  He recognised it, too.  And Oliver, that once uncertain lad was now so confident in himself and was so in love.  Long may it last.

            Sunday couldn’t last.  We went out and had a convivial lunch in a café along Bridge Street and who should come trundling in but Stephen Hawking.  We watched covertly as he passed in his chair and Tris whispered after he’d gone through, ‘Isaac Newton’s successor!’.  True.

            That day came to an end much too quickly.  We walked the pair to the Bus Station.  We wished them well and made arrangements for their next visit.  Oliver and I walked back to College without saying a word most of the way.  He was going to get his clobber out of store and move in with me so that was a plus.  He was going to have Tris’s old desk and cupboard in the bedroom to work.  We would be able to practice together.  He was due to take his LRAM at Christmas so on our return I accompanied him while he played through a couple of his exam pieces.  As I was scheduled to give a recital in the Chapel in November I had the bright idea that he should take part, too.  Oboe and harpsichord and I could play some of my favourite Scarlatti as well.  We would have to sort out a couple of suitable pieces for us to play.

            Charles came along during the evening and while we had a drink gave us the list for the guests for the new Dining Room and it’s opening.  It held thirty when full so as well as College dignitaries like the Master, Chaplain, Dean and Bursar there were half and half dons and students to make up the rest.  I saw James Tanner and Safar were on the list as well as the Economics Lord.  Miss Anstruther-Lamb was there as well with Aubrey Fullerton and amongst the students were the President of the Students’ Union, Captains of various teams, then me, as Pennefather Scholar, Boz, Oliver, Fiona and Dina with Gabe and Josh representing the ‘Colonials’ as we said.  ‘Sub fusc’ garb was indicated so we would have to check on suits and white shirts and polished shoes.

            “I am so pleased that all is going well,” said Charles as we read through the list and then the menu.  “If the new second chef lives up to expectations the enterprise should help to put the College on the map even more.  With that and the income expected from the exhibition we should be able to commission the building at Hampton House without delay.”

            “You certainly have worked hard,” I said and meant it.  Charles was devoted to the College.  “And the opening of the Exhibition is scheduled for the public on the Monday after term starts as well, right?  A very busy day!”

            “All we ask is for a fair wind for the final preparations.  I shall be at the British Library tomorrow to collect the portfolio of reproductions of the books.  Crispin Palfrey is driving me there and Jenny Masterton is coming as well.  She has written the booklet which we hope the printers will have ready in time...”  He was ticking things off on upraised fingers.  “..We shall have to wait for the main selection of postcards as I have commissioned young Leonard Dalrymple to make a complete record of as much of the find as possible and of the rooms when ready.  In the meantime we shall have to make do with about six assorted views of the relics which have already been prepared.”  He shook his head.  “There is the question of copyright of the panoramas in the rooms and of your particular cellar.  I would suggest an extra charge for the use of cameras as we would not be able to hold back the enthusiastic Japanese for one moment.  Do you agree?  A proportion to be devoted to the Pennefather Scholar’s musical interests, perhaps.”  He looked at me.  I must have looked blank.  “I will discuss it with Aubrey Fullerton and ask him to draw up a suitable document in conjunction with your friend Mr Van Zyl.”  I nodded.

            When he went I breathed a sigh of relief.  OK, OK, the discovery had been stupendous but I didn’t want to be bothered during this my most important year.  And, I still had to contemplate my own future.  Still, Oliver and I would be sharing and he was a most agreeable companion.  We had an unspoken agreement there would be no sexual activity between us.  Lonely beds but love in our hearts!