In the following story, all of the characters are totally fictive. For whomever it would be illegal, immoral or forbidden for any other reason whatsoever to read a story about love between two consenting young men is kindly requested to refrain from continuing. A photo album (pdf) concerning this story is available upon request marin.giustinian@laposte.net. This being said, I hope you enjoy the tale.
The action takes place nowadays, mostly in the Barra Islands of the Hebrides in Scotland.
THE VICTORY OF SIMPLICITY
Marin Giustinian
Jeremiah woke up with a hangover. Staggering to the toilet, he licked his fuzzy feeling teeth, shivering on the verge of a flash flood, his smartphone in one hand and his dick in the other. The graduation party had been rather reckless and the relief of finally having finished four years of constant stress winding up with a Bachelor of Computer Science gave way to laughter, stupid jokes and a fantastic amount of pot and booze available for all.
As usual, he dove into his iPhone. It was the first thing he did every morning after peeing. He deleted the several congratulation messages and mails that had arrived during the night, then switched over to Facebook, scrolling down the mass of useless pictures and comments, barely able to focus his eyes as well as his mind on what he was doing and nonetheless why.
He poured himself a second cup of coffee, opened his laptop and while he was checking out the latest news of the world, it hit him. A queasy urge to vomit made him shudder. He took another look at this brand new diploma laying on the desk.
"God! Here I sit like a dunce, a moron, all by myself ready to stick my nose into another screen, not even knowing why I'm doing it!" he cried out loud, shouting at nobody. Closing his laptop, he left his hand on it. With the other, he slowly crunched his diploma and softly started to sob.
He showed up, nice and fresh, showered and shaved, for lunch right on time at the restaurant. His parents and older sister had come down from Truro for the ceremony and having stayed overnight, invited him out to the finest restaurant you can find in downtown Halifax. They wanted to make a special occasion out of the event and treat him to his present.
"How was the party last night, dear?" asked his mother with a knowing smile on her face.
"Rough..."
His father and sister laughed and they all made small talk as they studied the menu. The food was delicious and having filled his stomach, Jeremiah was feeling better. He loved his family and they loved him. He was happy to be treated the way they did.
Then fell the fatal question.
On a very fatherly tone, his dad simply asked, "So tell us, Son, what are your plans now?"
That queasy feeling hit him again. He looked down at the crumbs in his dessert plate, fumbled a bit with the fork, lifted his teary eyes to his mother, then to his father and meekly started to pour out his heart.
"I don't know. I'm starting to wonder why I ever got caught up in all that computer and internet stuff at all!"
"But that's the future, dear..." sweetly pontified his mother. His father listened. His sister was texting.
"Future? I love you sister but put that fucking phone away while we're together and while I'm saying something goddamn important!"
"But I'm just..."
"I said PUT IT AWAY!" slamming his hands on the table, his voice slightly trembling.
"Whoah there son, take it easy... What's wrong?"
His sister stashed her phone in her handbag. His mother, quite appalled about her son's very unusual outburst waited in silence for him to speak.
"What's wrong? Everything, Dad! The whole system is evil. It's eating our brains out. Look at what's happening down there in the States. Tweeter, Facebook and all the instant everything is submerging reason, politeness and even hope. All of my friends last night are scared of life now. And like me, most of us are alone in front of our screens as they play with our souls. I don't know what I want, but I do know what I don't want!"
"And what's that, Son?"
"I don't want to play the game the cyber world wants us to play. While I was a student at Dalhousie, I learned about all there is to know -- for the time being -- about everything linked with computers, pads, smartphones and God knows what they're going to come up with next. I already feel like my brain's been formatted to obey to what they expect us to be."
"Maybe that's just a phase you're going through, dear," stammered his mother.
The waiter came back to take away the dessert plates. "Is there anything else you need?" he asked, "coffee, tea, cordials?"
Jeremiah's father dismissed him almost curtly and then speaking directly and lovingly to his son said, "It's going to take a while for you to settle all those questions, my boy. I'm glad you do think, but I'd be even happier if you thought straight."
"Ha! Dad, you know I'm not straight!"
"Of course, Son! I didn't mean it that way..."
"Sure you didn't. I'm sorry, No offence. I agree! I want to try to think about all that. Simplify things. Put them straight. Sort out the essential things in life and not only heed the financial sides of life. I want to write a book about the temptation of simplicity. Tell me Dad, how was life before internet and personal computers claimed their empire on us?"
His mother took her husband's hand and said, "I still have his love letters! And when we spoke on the phone I could hold the line that went all the way to where he was holding the phone. We were connected by that wire... and I knew where the end of that line was. It wasn't like now when I call on the cell phone, nothing connects and I have no idea where he could be when and if he answers."
"That's real sweet, Mom! But I'm not only talking about communication. I'm talking about needs. I need to be connected to the great big world wide web. I'm like a bug caught in the cybernetic spider's web and that need to be caught in the web isn't healthy. I'm most of the time alone, gaming, Facebooking and studying on the web. I feel like I don't know how to need other people any more and that really scares me!"
"Son, go and write that book. And if you want to feel your roots, go all the way. Take some time off, go to the Hebrides where our family came from. Take time off and write. You've got my blessing -- and my backing!"
"What? I'm not sure I understand..."
"I simply say, buy a ticket to Glasgow, change for Barra Island, rent out something there to live in and write your book. I'm paying. Is that clear enough?"
Jeremiah was stunned for a moment as he toyed with the idea. Then suddenly saw the light.
"Tell me about Barra, Dad!"
His father explained that the family moved over to Nova Scotia after having been forced to leave Pabbay Island next to Barra where they were crofters or tenant farmers. His wife and daughter were finally listening to him as well. When the waiter came back saying that they were going to close, he paid the bill, left a good tip and called his son over to him.
"Take this, Son. When it runs out, you can ask for some more -- if you need it, but I want to read that book!" he said slipping an envelope into Jeremiah's pocket. Jeremiah pulled it out, ripped it open, finding a cheque for $40,000.
"But Dad! That's too much!"
"That's what it would have cost me if you wanted to do a Master's degree, so instead, write the book! Become a Master of Computer Philosophy! I'm willing to pay just to see."
Jeremiah grabbed his father and hugged him almost too tight. The poor man chuckled a little saying, "Whoah! Calm down, my wonderful, gay mastermind! You're going to strangle me if you carry on like that!"
"Are you two coming along?" piped up the mother, "Jeremiah, keep us informed. We've got to get underway. There's a long drive ahead. We love you!" she exclaimed as she and his sister blew him a farewell kiss.
Jeremiah studied all he could about the isle of Barra, the deserted islands south, their history, his own genealogy. He thought about the idea of taking a break to do just that, break with all the complexity of what was stirring his mind into a massive muddle.
He took time to write a letter on paper, put it in an envelope, licking a stamp to send it to his father.
"Dad, this is a love letter to the man who made love, giving me life. With what you said, you continue giving me life, life with a perspective and a taste of adventurous hope. I've studied all I can about Barra and the out islands. I've booked my flights and by the time you get this letter, I should be checking in at the Castlebay Hotel. I've traced down our family ties to a certain John McPh... and his family, crofters, living on Pabbay Island in 1841. Hardships made the very few inhabitants flee the island, leaving it abandoned in 1937. The house left standing is now a ruin having lost its roof. The island was bought in 2000 by the National Trust of Scotland. It's now free of private ownership. One of first things I'll do is go over to Pabbay and get the feel of the island. I'm sure I'll find a way to connect directly with the spirit of the place without being connected to the holy world wide web, and I'm only halfway joking! Ha! I'll connect just to send you e-mails keeping you updated as to how things go for me. I feel so free and happy, Dad! You gave me life and now you've set me free to live it as I need. Your loving son, Jeremiah"
He didn't know how simple things could be until arriving on Barra. The island didn't even bother to build an airport. The little plane from Glasgow lands directly on a beach. Sure, there's a building in the dunes for passenger service and that's it. Jeremiah found the last leg of his flight fantastic. The scattered islands between the mainland and Barra reminded him of Nova Scotia, New Scotland.
When he got off the plane and found himself directly on a beach he was simply, for the first time in a long time, astonished. The taxi drove him to Castlebay, crossing coves and cottages on the way, following the only winding road along the rocky coast. Stopping in front of the hotel, the driver said with a sly smile on his face, "Here we are downtown, my lad! Have a nice time!"
Downtown! There was hardly any town at all. The hotel had its restaurant and pub all in one. Jeremiah claimed his reservations and was led to his room. It had a beautiful view on the harbour, right in front of the ferry landing. The staff was relaxed, almost informal, friendly even. The room was surprisingly comfortable with a big bed and a very big bath. The whole place was quite quaint, nice with no nonsense. After a rather boring night in a boring airport hotel in Glasgow, Jeremiah was getting over his jet lag in high style here.
"I'm really getting to like this place," he said to himself as he hesitated, stalling his reflex to check on the WiFi, pull out his transformer and plug in his iPhone and laptop. Instead, he decided to begin his rehab immediately. He settled down in the big steamy bath tub he could simply soak in. Then he dressed in some warmer clothes and went down to the dining room for lunch.
As he walked in, he was met by a very broad smile and given a menu, choosing a table with view on the harbour. He decided on a big burger with chips and a pint of lager.
After enjoying his lunch, he went out on an exploratory stroll and visited the Barra Heritage and Cultural Centre where he gathered even more information concerning Pabbay. He had read about the Pictish stone that was found there but didn't really understand the importance of the finding. Here, he was able to talk a while with the lady in charge who told him everything to be known about the island. The name Pabbay comes from a Norse word meaning "priest" or "hermit". Supposedly, early Christian mystics would come and pray, living alone in such secluded islands. Probably, even in the pagan times there was a mystical aura there. This could explain the presence of the engraved the stone bearing Celtic symbols and an engraved cross, probably added on at a later time. The mound beside where it was discovered covered a stone structure which could have been either a burial mound or a sanctuary or both. The lady was a mine of information and seemed quite impressed too that Jeremiah was a descendant of the major family that had inhabited the island during the nineteenth century. Such attention made him begin to feel like he belonged there.
He retired back to his room and indulged in a nice nap. When he woke up, he noticed it was happy hour and went down to the pub for a good local beer. "Give me a tall Windswept Wolf, please. It sounds really good! I like it strong, dark and tasty."
"Good choice!" replied the barman, looking at Jeremiah up and down, "I heard you'll be around a lot, matey... so what's your name?"
"Jeremiah. Jeremiah McP..."
"Here you go, Jeremiah! I'll put it on your bill, if that suits you."
"That will be fine! Tell me, I'd like to get over to visit Pabbay Island. How do you get there?"
"There's just one guy I know of who takes people around the islands, but he works mostly with groups. Is that what you had in mind?"
"Not really. I'd like to spend some time by myself on the island, making research and stuff."
"I see..."
"Do you know how I can find out if there was anybody around that could rent or sell me a skiff with a decent motor?"
"You really want to get over there on your own, don't you?" exclaimed the barman.
"My ancestors built the last standing house on Pabbay, now in ruin. I want to go and get the feeling of where the first known roots of my family were planted. I came all the way from Canada to get there, so I'm not going to give up easily."
"Well, why don't you go to the hostel and see the guy who runs the kayak business. He's got several boats that I never see being used. Maybe you could make him an offer... or ask if he knows who you could make an offer to and get yourself a skiff."
"Thanks a lot for the tip! I'll go tomorrow morning!"
Luck seemed to be shining down on Jeremiah. He showed up at the hostel close to ten and was greeted by a very friendly gentleman, Mr. D..., in overalls. Jeremiah explained to him what he was looking for and why. At first, the fellow said there wasn't any kind of boat available, to his knowledge, in all of Barra and the adjacent island of Vatersay. Jeremiah insisted, throwing in all of his persuasiveness and youthful charm, insisting on his boating abilities and above all, his quest to get the feeling of his origins and to be able to come and go to Pabbay as he needed.
"Let me think about it and I'll see what I can do. Come by this afternoon."
Jeremiah smiled and replied, "Thank you so much! I feel you understand how much this means to me!"
The gentleman just smiled, not replying. They shook hands and that was it.
When Jeremiah came back there was some news for him. The gentleman he saw earlier welcomed him with a big smile and said that he could lend him a boat, leaving a substantial caution fee of course, and if he got an authorisation to make some lengthy stays on Pabbay from the Barra and Vatersay Community Ltd. and the other authorities involved, maybe he would then consider selling him the boat.
Jeremiah couldn't hide his joy as they went down to the water, got into a dingy and sculled out to a tarp covered boat with a rakish, black hull. It was the perfect skiff he needed. The bottom was flat for good beaching, it was in very good shape and looked really sturdy.
"First quality fibreglass hull. It's an 18 foot Fitzgerald Marine made in Cork, Ireland. The best you can find for heavy duty."
"Looks great! And the motor?"
"I've got a 30HP Suzuki in the back house that goes on it."
Jeremiah said he'd bring the caution money the next morning and asked if the motor could be serviced and put on the boat by then?
"You know, fellow, I don't understand why I'm doing this for you..."
Jeremiah's heart sunk as he looked with very puzzled eyes at the man in front of him.
"...But I feel I've got to. There! Enough's said. Now go and try to see the guys I told you about for the authorisations. See you tomorrow."
Jeremiah called and got an appointment with the head of the Barra and Vatersay Community Ltd. to start his authorisation process. They should meet in three days. He then called his banker in Halifax at the Scotiabank foreseeing a substantial transfer of funds for the boat caution and future purchase and asked them to email an agreement in his name immediately. That evening he had the document printed at the hotel desk and all was ready for the next day.
He was still very happy about his accommodations and was assured he could keep his room and board for another two weeks. He went down to the pub for his happy hour and was cordially greeted by the barman.
"Hello, Jeremiah! How're you doing?"
"Fine... In fact great! I've got a boat lined up and an appointment with the head of the Barra and Vatersay Community Ltd. I'm starting to love this island! Pity though that they're closing down the only bank! I'd hate having to queue up at the Post Office to withdraw money!"
"That's what they call progress, man! We poor islanders don't interest the Royal Bank of Scotland enough for them to keep an office or even an ATM here... What can I serve you? The same?"
"Sure!"
As he put the beer on the bar, he commented, "So you found yourself a boat."
"Thanks to you, man! The tip you gave me with the kayak fellow hit the target."
"I'm really glad. I think you're going to blend in well. We're your stock after all!"
"That you are! I hope you're right!"
The weather was spring clear with a very persistent sun, but not at all uncomfortable as he headed to Pabbay. The boat handled well ; the motor purred along like a happy tomcat. Jeremiah was one happy man too! He didn't push the boat. By just letting it cruise along nice and easy, it only took him about 45 minutes to round the tip of the southern peninsula of the island.
Then there it was! The perfect little bay glistened as the white strand neared. He could make out the ruins of the house as he closed in to the shore. The stream of fresh water eroded the sand as it flowed into the sea. With the breeze behind him, he cut off the motor and glided into the shallows. He had planned his first trip along with the tide tables and beached just about an hour after ebb. He knew he had a good nine to ten hours before the boat was afloat again so he had all the time in the world to explore the island, his island. He brought a picnic with him and a slicker in case of rain.
He grabbed the anchor and waded ashore. With the boat now taken care of, he climbed the bank going into the high grass. He was overwhelmed by a kind of gentle warmth filling his body, pacifying his mind, curing his soul. He didn't know how to define what he was feeling -- but whatever it was, it was good! It was something close to what poets call love.
The old stones of the house, now in ruin, drew him like a magnet draws iron. As he clambered the slope along the stream bank, he stumbled across the foundations of what must have been other dwellings. He remembered the old photos of Mingulay, the neighbouring island to the South, showing the primitive hovels they called 'black houses' that the poorer crofters lived in.
Finally he reached the house. He slowly crossed the threshold. A gull flew away through what used to be a roof, making its funny laugh, startling Jeremiah in his silent contemplation. The scare made him laugh as he shouted, "My God! I feel so good here!". He went inside and then leaned out on the windowsill, wondering how someone of his own descent could have felt as his gaze strayed beyond the beach, lost in the ocean horizon.
Seizing himself, he decided to climb to the top of the island to get a full view all around. Even though there were several other islands sharing the surrounding waters, he wanted to feel the isolation of him alone in his tiny homeland. He followed the gurgling stream up through the heather, the wildflowers and the rich grass along its banks. Once he reached the top, he looked around and without thinking, he stripped off his clothes and stood there naked, his arms outstretched as if worshipping the light. He was definitely in the place where he belonged!
A big fat, white cloud lazily lumbered by, hiding the sun and making him shiver. As he was putting his clothes back on, he noticed a single handed kayak paddling towards the beach, towards HIS beach.
"Yes! There are other people in the world..." he mused, laughing to himself for such a stupid observation. He decided to explore the rest of the island another day and eased his way down, returning to the house. He needed to decide about his campsite. Also, he was getting really hungry.
Mark beached his kayak and pulled it up close to Jeremiah's boat. He too had a backpack with a bottle of water poking out of it. As he walked up, he kept looking at a paper he had folded and stuck in his belt. Jeremiah walked up to the house just as Mark was approaching.
"Hi! Hope I'm not bothering you."
"Not at all," replied Jeremiah, "It's my first time here... so to speak... And you?"
"Me too. I'm looking for the Pictish stone. Have you seen it?"
"No, I haven't really looked for it, to be honest."
Mark sided up to Jeremiah unfolding the photocopy of the map he had seen in the Heritage Centre. It mentioned the mound not far from the house.
Mark was stunningly handsome and he had the very same blue eyes as Jeremiah's. It was even a little uncanny. Mark had also worked up a sweat paddling then climbing up to the house and his scent went straight to Jeremiah's head -- and a bit to his cock as well.
"Oh! Excuse me. My name's Mark H... I'm from Edinburg and on holidays visiting the islands. And you?"
Jeremiah stammered, "Jeremiah McP... from Halifax. Halifax Nova Scotia, Canada. I'm here looking up information and landmarks made by my ancestors. A guy of my family actually built this house. They lived here before going to Canada. Also I'm looking for a place to write my book."
When they shook hands, Jeremiah felt a flow of energy surge between them and Mark didn't seem in a hurry to release his grip. It was quite evident that the two were drawn to each other. The space between them dwindled. They smiled, looking directly into each other's eyes. Blushing a little, Mark tried to save the conversation by saying, "Wow! That's interesting. What's it about, the book you want to work on?"
"It's a bit complicated to explain,"
"Do you have a title yet?"
Jeremiah was still a bit ill at ease. Marc fascinated, charmed and upset him all at the same time. He took a deep breath and delivered almost in a sigh, "The Temptation of Simplicity".
Marc remained silent, then simply said, looking into Jeremiah's eyes, "Beautiful! I feel tempted already!"
Jeremiah fidgeted a little and then blurted out, "It must be far past lunchtime and I'm starving. And you? Did you bring some food with you?"
"It's all right in here," Mark said, twisting his arm around, trying to tap his little backpack. "Let's eat and then go look for the carved stone after."
"Great idea!"
As they ate their sandwiches, they asked each other the ordinary questions about their studies, families, hobbies and so on. Jeremiah learned that Mark had attended a school of architecture and was recently graduated, specialised in the restoration of structures of historical interest and that he had done practical training on summer jobs with a contractor friend of his father. There was no mention of girlfriends, of future jobs nor was there any indication concerning any personal attachments whatsoever. By the end of the little picnic, they felt already bonded.
While Mark was washing his hands and splashing his face in the stream, Jeremiah's eyes gazed with delight at his serene beauty. He couldn't stifle the idea of how odd all of this effortless perfection was. Here he was, enjoying the simple company of a dream mate, befriending him without having to play the stupid hide and seek game everybody plays, cruising the net in desperation, hopelessly indulging again in online porn and hook ups, just to elude the total lack of sincerity in sex. He knew the frustration of flaunting around in some sordid, boisterous gay bar, exchanging fake phone numbers. Suddenly, here, now, everything was so real and so simple! He was silently astonished.
As Mark sat close down beside him, Jeremiah looked at him and stated without any kind of preamble, "You know, Mark. I think my book has just started now, here with you."
Mark just returned a puzzled smile.
"I was seeking ghosts here, looking for something I couldn't define. I was alone yet not lonely on this remote, deserted island and here you came, a vision, an answer to an unasked question. A little while ago, when I told you the title of my book project, you said that you were tempted by simplicity too, or something like that. Now, you and I are here, alone, becoming friends in the simplest way possible, almost as if we were meant to meet under such direct circumstances, without any go-betweens. Why is the world so cluttered with useless complexity, with phones and computers and televisions and churches and advertising, and... and bullshit?"
Mark slowly stood, held out his inviting hands and pulled Jeremiah up to him. They hugged with infinite tenderness as the island's energy whirled around them. Delicately, Mark touched Jeremiah's cheek and uttered with a smile, "Perhaps I was waiting for you, Jeremiah, but I didn't know it until we found each other. Let's go look for the engraved stone!"
They left their backpacks at the house and went in the direction indicated on the map. Without much trouble they found the Pictish stone standing only a few feet high at the foot of a little manmade hill, a kind of stone construction covered with turf. They looked at it in silence. Mark knelt and traced with his index the incisions made centuries ago by some unknown, but very skilful pagan Celt. Then, it was evident that somebody else, probably a Christian, carved the cross above the heathen symbols already engraved. This pagan shrine was not damaged nor shattered by the Christian. It was actually enhanced by the cross to witness indulgence and understanding.
When Mark pointed out all of that to Jeremiah, his reaction was direct, "That's a real lesson for today! And when I think of the trillions of billions of messages sprawled on paper, screens, billboards and God knows what else, this humble, undeciphered stone still imposes on us admiration and respect."
"Yes, it's so insignificant and, at the same time, powerful. It's also a miracle that people have left it here instead of carrying it away to a museum or something."
"You are so right, Mark, and obviously the stone and the island can't be separated! It's not written anywhere, but you can feel it and it's been here for thousands of years and here we are still gaping at it. I felt that I had to come here where my ancestors lived to write my book. Now I know that it has to be written here, on this island. I was planning to camp here for a while, just to get the feeling, jot down some notes, but now I'm going to ask permission to camp here all year long."
"What? Have you gone mad? With the winter gales on these islands, you wouldn't last a minute under a tent, without heat and unable to leave the island because of the humongous waves thrashing the rocks day on end, weeks after weeks! Think twice man!"
Jeremiah looked at Mark wide-eyed, never imagining he could be so vociferous, almost angry in his warnings.
"Look at that house in solid stone! Less that eighty years ago it had a roof and a door and windows and people living in it. It was built to resist the climate here and look at it now. So think about what can happen to a flimsy tent. The foundations down there were once houses. In less than a century they're just a pile of stone. If you want to stay here, you've got to restore the house your ancestors built, otherwise you'll be in real danger, man!"
"Say that again..."
"You've got to restore that house over there... the house that your ancestor built! Am I clear enough?"
"If you insist so much with me, Mark, that means you really care. You feel concern... You like me, don't you?"
"Yes, yes I do! I like you a lot!"
"You are RIGHT! I've got to restore the family home!" Jeremiah was so excited, he sort of danced around the Pictish stone exclaiming, "Damn right! Yes, I'll restore it. Wow! I can't believe it! That's a fantastic idea! I've got the cash. All I need now are the rights to do it and acquire the knowhow."
"You say you've got the cash? My God that's the hardest part. As far as the rights are concerned, I don't think that's a real problem. The owner of this island is the National Trust of Scotland. I know the organisation quite well having attended two seminars they organised in our school. They are really open to good ideas, especially if they're not paying. I'm sure an agreement can be negotiated. As far as the knowhow, well, Jeremiah, I can handle that if you want... we can handle that together, I mean... of course... if you want me to. I'm free and competent... at least, I think so!"
"Are you serious? Would you do that for me?"
"Dead serious, Jeremiah! I wouldn't do that only for you, but for me too. I know it's the thing to do."
"How do you know it?"
"I know it because I feel it."
They hugged again. Jeremiah noticed that the tide was rising back and that the boat as well as the kayak would soon be afloat.
"Listen, let's hurry back to the boat. I'll tow your kayak with my boat and we'll return to Castlebay together."
"Your boat? The one you rented, right?"
"If I get the authorisation to camp on... Ha! that sounds stupid now! Yes, if the Barra and Vatersay Community, Ltd. lets me camp, the guy you rented your kayak from will sell me the boat."
"Awesome! It's all in the bucket then! Let's go."
"I want to treat us to supper tonight at my hotel. I think we've got a lot to talk about and plan, don't we?"
"A lot, man! With pleasure!"
Seeing the water rising, Mark ran to grab his kayak before it went astray. Jeremiah followed and once everything was secured, the boat started to move. Just a few minutes later, the motor was humming again as they pulled away.
"Look how beautiful the island is in the early evening light, Jeremiah."
"Yes, our island is the most beautiful island in the world!"
"Mark, did you say, OUR island?"
"Are you going deaf or what?"
Mark laughed as he huddled up next to Jeremiah. They rounded the peninsula and headed back to Barra.
Once they drew up to the buoy and secured the skiff, Jeremiah took the dingy and Mark, the kayak to shore saying, "I'm hurrying up to not let the boss get too worried and send out rescue."
"Good idea. I'll be there in a minute."
When Jeremiah walked into the hostel, the boss, Mr. D..., looked up as he was talking with Mark.
"So you fellows got acquainted on Pabbay, did you?"
"Yes, we did. By the way, I've an appointment with the guys from the Community tomorrow. Did you receive the funds I had my bank send you for the caution and, as I hope, down payment,."
"It's in the bank! Here's a receipt for you and the agreement to refund, if there's no damage on the boat or the motor, in case you don't get the authorisation," Mr. D... said.
"Great! And thank you. The boat's a real pearl! We get along quite well together!"
They shook hands and then turning to Mark, "Do you need to fetch anything before we leave?"
"Just a change of clothes. Can I take a shower at the hotel?"
"A shower? No... There's just a great big tub and hot water galore!"
As Mark came out of the bathroom, nude, rubbing his hair with the abundant towel, he radiated beauty.
"Ah that felt good! I haven't been so clean in days! Nothing like soaking in hot water!"
"You look good too..."
"You should have come and joined me. The tub's big enough for two!" commented Mark as he dressed.
"Maybe later, in the morning. You'll stay over tonight won't you?"
"If you insist," teased Mark.
"I insist."
"Then I stay."
"That being settled, let's go down and have a beer before supper. All that wonderful fresh air has famished me... The excitement too! You're still game about our house plans, aren't you?"
"More than ever. Only if I get to live in it with you some!"
"Come on, we've got to make a toast on that!"
When the two of them walked into the bar, they must have made a serious effect. The other patrons fell silent and stared. The barman called out, "Good evening Jeremiah, see you've got some very handsome company! What'll you be having mates?"
"What do you drink, Mark?"
"I really like 'Dark Island' ale."
"Two 'Dark Island' ales please."
"Still fancy it strong and brown!" exclaimed the barman as he fetched the bottles and glasses.
They joked downing their beers and studying the menu for the evening meal. They were really relaxed when they got to the table. The meal was great and as they rose to retire, Mark said in a very sincere voice, "Thank you Jeremiah for this wonderful day, this princely meal, and in advance for the immediate and far future, I hope!"
Once they were back in the room, Jeremiah went to freshen up in the bathroom as Mark admired the last glimmers of day through the tall window.
When he came back out, dressed only with a towel around his waist, he suggested, "Let's talk about our project in bed. How about that?"
"I love pillow talk," replied Mark as he started to undress.
Jeremiah went over and turned off the ceiling lights, lit the beside lamp, dropped his towel and met Mark climbing in bed at the same time. They snuggled up and began caressing each other as Mark said, "I prefer pillow talk in the morning... and you?"
"You have the best ideas, Mark!"
Their lips met and kissed as they rolled back and forth, on and over each other. Their cocks leaked, moist with slickness as they rubbed them stubbornly together, pulsing and grinding as if doomed to merge. Mark moaned, shivered a bit, inhaled Jeremiah's pits, slid down his chest, fervently teasing his tits with his playful tongue, burying his face in the curls of his pubes, grabbing his cock with his mouth and sucking for all he was worth. The bed became a chaos of tangled sheets and glistening bodies, a total turmoil of mouths, cocks, tongues, fingers and writhing legs. A riptide of lust finally broke as they ejaculated in each other's mouths, their semen surging down their moaning throats. At that very instant, their fate was sealed.
Nothing more was said and done. Mark turned over, turned off the lamp and rolled back into Jeremiah's arms. They breathed in unison, bonded together.
Dawn streamed through the window. Mark slid out of bed and went to pee. When he returned to bed, Jeremiah pulled him back in a playful hug.
"Don't you ever scare me like that again!"
"I hope you don't prefer me peeing in bed! You silly, daft Adonis!"
With that Jeremiah leapt out of bed and dashed into the bathroom, his hard-on bobbing up front. Mark came in and turned on the water to start filling the tub.
"We have a few minutes while the tub is filling," exclaimed Jeremiah as he grabbed Mark over his shoulder and carried him flailing arms and legs back to the bed. He threw him down and pounced on him like a panther on his prey. They made out, tickled and giggled until they decided to check on the tub... just in time!
They had to let some water out to make space for their two robust bodies, otherwise, the tub would overflow. They climbed in and sat the best they could facing each other. They soaped each other vigorously and even more in some spots and when they reclined back, wrapping their legs around each other, they were both hard as bowsprits. Climbing out of the tub, they towelled down and once in bed, they stretched and coiled together in a much calmer and voluptuous 69 than the night before.
Taking their time, twirling their tongues around their succulent cocks, sucking and stroking, little by little they led each other up to the point of no return. Their breath deepened. They gasped as their pelvises trembled, their cocks, swollen to the verge of a pending explosion, throbbed in each other's mouth. They were able to stay vigilant enough to not buck nor fuck each other's throat. They sucked until the flash of oblivion made their energy soar in spirals, engulfing them in a whirlpool of pure rapture. Spent, heaving, breathless they found each other locked in a placid embrace, softly kissing.
"What a beautiful way to start the day!" giggled Mark.
"Let's go finish breakfast downstairs."
As they left the office after the appointment with the Barra and Vatersay Community, Ltd. Mark asked, "Where do we go from there?"
"Back to the hotel."
"Of course dummy! I mean what do we do next... other than sex I mean."
"Let me think a minute or two on the way. We'll discuss that at lunch."
"Perfect!"
Once back in the hotel pub and lunch room, Jeremiah rang up Mr. D... telling him they had been granted a 'non-opposition' to camp for a reasonable limit of time under their own personal responsibility. Mr. D... congratulated him and said he could come by the next day to finish the formalities on the boat sale such as insurance, registration, etc. Before the end of the call, Mark gestured that he wanted to speak to the gentleman. Jeremiah passed him the phone and Mark mouthed out, "Can I move in with you?" and Jeremiah made a face and whispered back, "Of course, numbskull!"
"Hello, Mr. D... Mark H... speaking. I'm coming over this afternoon to check out and pay my bill. (pause) Thank you a lot (pause) Yes, Sir, with your new boat owner! (pause) Yes, of course! Good-bye." Turning to Jeremiah, handing him his phone, "He asked me if we were going to live together. Nosey fellow! Ha!"
That being done, they studied the menu and decided on the burger.
Jeremiah began the discussion, "Let's see what has to be done now. How long can you stay now?"
"As long as we need. Normally we have a lot to do before the bad weather sets in."
"What about your return reservations, your family, your job hunt?"
"I didn't make any... I came over by train and ferry. I'm free as a lark! My family will be delighted about the way things are turning up for me. I can't wait for you to meet them when we go to Edinburg and plead our deal with the guys from the National Trust. What's urgent now is that I draw up the plans of the renovation and for the both of us, to write up a project that can't be refused and send it immediately to the National Trust of Scotland. Does your computer have design software in it?"
"I don't know. After lunch, you'll check it out and if not, we'll download whatever you need."
"We'll need your internet connection to go shopping for estimates of the material involved. I know how to handle that."
"Thank God my credit card can do overseas transactions for free, because there's going to be a lot, I feel!"
"By the way, since the money subject has come up, I want to pay my way too, Jeremiah. It's only fair."
"I'm grateful for that, Mark. You just chip in what you want. I've no problem footing your expenses while you work for the house. As far as the expenses on the restoration are concerned, that's my responsibility. I hope that's clear. We'll move out of the hotel and go camp on the island with your tent and material as soon as we send the project off to the National Trust. We can splurge on a room, hot bath, wifi and a decent meal once a week. As soon as we hear from the National Trust, we'll go to see them in Edinburg. How does that sound?"
"I'm your man."
"That you are!"
In two days, working full time, they developed and polished up a fantastic project, explaining down to the least detail the objectives of their idea and how to realise it : restore the livableness of the structure with minimal comfort, bothy style, and assure permanent custodianship of the island, welcoming and overseeing the increasing numbers of visitors each year.
While Mark was toiling on the computer, composing the images, investigating the material needs, etc. Jeremiah handled the boat situation, settled his banking needs and introduced himself to the businesses in Castlebay with which he would be dealing for food, fuel, storage, etc.
Mark and Jeremiah were full of very clever ideas concerning the restoration work, combining feasibility, aesthetics and resistance to the assault of the elements. All the restoration work was conceived as a job requiring only two men using elementary hand tools. The entire project was designed for low environmental impact as well as simplicity of use and upkeep. Mark's skill in computer imagery enhanced not only the ease of comprehension but also the effectiveness of the document.
Beyond the touristic interest of the project and it's undeniable ecological value, the fact that a descendant of the last crofters of Pabbay, coming to the island and entirely financing the revival of the edifice with his own funds would probably swing the deal with the National Trust of Scotland.
The title they came up with was quite enticing : "Pabbay Revived". They wrote a very elegant letter of presentation, put the final touches on the file and sent it off, crossing their fingers.
"There! That's done... and well done by my standards. I really congratulate us! The rest is up to our guardian angels!" sighed Jeremiah as he hugged Mark.
"I'm so excited Jeremiah! If this deal doesn't work, I don't know what I'll do!"
"We'll stay together, whatever! That's the simplest answer possible, isn't it?"
"Kiss me!"
That evening, they celebrated with a gourmet meal and a bottle of fine French wine. Once back in their room and bed, the celebration continued until the wee hours of the morning. They released the tension of the last few days in a wonderful spree of delight, love and arrant sex. They discovered that they were very versatile in their enjoyment, switching easily from top to bottom, from giving to receiving, from explosive to delicate. Their compatibility deepened as the hours filled them with increasing tenderness and orgasmic ecstasy.
"With all of the energy our loving has mustered, the project is bound to succeed," exclaimed Mark as he bounced on the bed before diving again on Jeremiah to smother him with kisses.
"Not only the project, my marvellous mate, but our whole life together, if so will the angels!"
"The angels? Don't you feel them swirling and laughing around us while we make love? They're the ones that keep us going! It's nearly two o'clock in the morning and we're not yet spent..."
"Well, almost! Let's turn off the light and cuddle some, please. Let's enjoy sleeping in a big, soft bed. Tomorrow, in the tent, it's going to be another story!"
"That's right!" yawned Mark as he nudged, kissing Jeremiah's neck, as both fell into total oblivion.
The next morning, Mark and Jeremiah took time to write to their parents. There was so much to say : their meeting on the island, their immediate realising that they were meant for each other, the purchase of the boat, the project of 'Pabbay Revived', and their hopes of a positive outcome with the National Trust of Scotland.
Jeremiah wrote his while Mark went through his camping equipment, seeing what they needed to add like covers, mugs, plates, cutlery and such. They were now two and that did make some changes. He then began a grocery list.
Jeremiah hit the send button and said to Mark, "Now it's your turn to write."
"If it's not to rude to ask, could you read me what your wrote. Maybe it can inspire me for my own mail."
"Sure."
He read his message and when he got around to telling about his feelings for Mark -- Mark blushed.
"Okay, you romantic dork, get out of my way and let me write!" Mark said, hugging Jeremiah from behind.
"Take over man! I'm going to finish up with my stuff and go down to pay the hotel and make reservations for next week."
The hotel agreed to keep Jeremiah's spare luggage and made the reservation for the following week. When he came back up to the room, Mark had finished his message, saying, "Come over and read it before I push the send button. I want you to see if it's all fine with you." Jeremiah complied, read and said, "Wonderful! Now, let's go shopping at the Co-op. They've got everything we need. We can even grab some sandwiches before cruising over to Pabbay in time for the high tide."
"I'm ready. Let's go!"
Fortunately, the weather was almost decent. The best purchase they made were two sacks of dry firewood and a hatchet to spilt it with. There was no wood on the island except for some rare driftwood washed up on the beach.
They set up camp right beside the house near the stream. As night fell they enjoyed the hypnotic fire dancing in front of the tent. Inside, a nice cozy nest of covers, sleeping bag and sweaters balled up as pillows waited for them.
A kind of rich silence surrounded them. They were simply there, at peace and happy with nothing actually happening as if suspended in time and space. All the sounds they heard were gentle : the distant rumble of the waves in the rocks, the cry of a passing gull, the giggling babble of the little stream near by.
"I couldn't ever wish myself elsewhere again, Mark. The peace and beauty of what we experience at this very moment is almost edible."
"I wouldn't have thought about eating beauty."
"Really? I think about it each time I drink the sperm you give me."
"Okay...I see..."
The days and nights flew by. The boys almost lost count. Their time was spent exploring every nook and cranny of the island which seemed to grow bigger everyday.
One sunny afternoon, as they walked along the edge of the western cliffs, they happened upon a bed of sea campions and thrift, an abundance of wildflowers profusely spread as if cast among the rocks. The ground was warm under their bare feet and the breeze almost tepid. Mark, stunned by this display of blatant beauty, simply shed his shirt and shorts and delicately merged nude into the floral marvel suspended on the edge of the island. He knelt, bending down to inhale the fragrance. Jeremiah simply gazed at him as one would gaze at an etherial vision.
Mark rose, turned and beckoned Jeremiah to join him. He stripped and stepped into the flowers until he and Mark stood face to face, quiet, serene, almost as if in a trance. Mark slowly caressed Jeremiah's neck, who followed suit and they both, never withholding, looked deeply into each other's eyes, closing ever so slightly the minimal distance between their lips. The tip of their cocks connected as in a kiss. Neither stirred as the surrounding energy awakened their flesh. Their breath shortened and very delicately their lips melded in an infinitely tender kiss. At that exact instant, both their cocks erupted. Their orgasms were silent, immobile, deep and fulfilling. They hugged, stretched and stepped carefully out of the wildflowers, leaving behind the offering of their semen, gleaming amongst the petals, strewn in the sun. Little by little words were becoming useless between them. The island's spell was cast.
Once back at the camp, Jeremiah turned on his phone to check, as he did once a day, the possible incoming messages. This time it rang up one pending voice mail. He listened to it and then screamed dancing around laughing like a madman, "Mark! Come here! Wow! It's them! It's the guy from the National Trust. He wants us to call. Oh my God! I'm trembling..."
"Well, call!" quipped back Mark.
"You call."
"No! You call."
"...Okay..."
He activated the return call and on the other end the phone rang one -- two -- three times and then a "Hello".
Jeremiah breathed deeply and in a very distinguished tone, he spoke, "Jeremiah McP... speaking."
"Really! (pause) Of course! (pause) With pleasure, when? (pause) We shall be there. Thank you!" and that was it.
"Well?"
"Mark, we've got an appointment next Wednesday at 3:30 PM with the project director of the National Trust of Scotland. Our project is of the, and I quote, 'highest interest'. Do you hear? Highest Interest! Oh my God! WOW!"
"Do you have enough battery to call the hotel? We've got to go back a day sooner to get ready for our trip to Edinburg. We look like Robinson Crusoe and Friday, not fit for civilisation and I don't want to scare the wits out of my parents!"
"Oh shit! You're right!"
"I'll ring them up to tell them we're coming."
The hotel said that there was no problem.
"The boat should be afloat by ten tomorrow according to the tide tables. Perfect for us!"
"I love you too much, Jeremiah!"
"Too much? How's that?"
"Too much, that's all!"
They broke camp and stashed everything in the boat. Once back to Barra, they secured the mooring, covered it with the tarp and checked back in the hotel. The bath wasn't too much. Once scrubbed, shampooed and shaved, they looked like a page out of a fashion magazine. After a good meal and a very, very restful night of sleep, they embarked early for Oban and then on to Edinburg by rail arriving at 8:00 PM.
Mark's father met them at the station and by 9:00 they were at the dining room table. The meal was lovely and the welcome even more so. Mark's mother was bubbling over with questions. Jeremiah was quite impressed by the ease with which Mark explained what they'd agreed on and how they felt about each other. Mark's little brother made everyone laugh when he exclaimed, "I'm going to be gay too if that brings me a friend like Jeremiah and live on an island!"
After supper, the boys showed the project on the family computer and Mark printed it out in three copies saying, "Tomorrow we'll have to leave them some paper. It helps them make up their minds. It makes things look more serious!"
"It does feel better having the file itself in hand instead of silly little memory stick." added Jeremiah.
Mark's father spoke up,"Well listen, guys, I know you're dead tired and you've got a big day tomorrow. Mark, you're going to show your mate around the town some before your appointment, I hope."
"We'll indulge in a late breakfast, go into town, sightsee with a snack and then arrive right on time at the National Trust. You'll be the first to be informed about the outcome. Thanks so much for being so supportive! We're really happy, you know!"
"It's written all over your faces! So we're happy for you," replied Mark's Mom. His father simply gave both of them a big hug, saying, "Good night, my boy... oops, I mean my boys, all three of you!"
"Come on up, Jeremiah. You'll see, I've got a dream bed in my room, waiting just for us!"
The project director's mind was already made up when they were ushered into his office. For sure, the boys' good looks helped finalise the project. They handed him the paper copy and they retired to a little conference room. They sat down around a long table. Several other collaborators came in and the project was discussed in detail. When it came time to sum up what was said, the director used the future tense talking about "Pabbay Revived". It was even said that the National Trust must assume a part of the financing and a contract should be drawn up once the board of directors gives their approval.
"It's a pleasure to have a Canadian belonging to our organisation. It's even better knowing that he is the partner of a young, brilliant architect. Mark, I want to congratulate you on the several very clever ideas you've come up with. We shall come and pay you a visit, that's sure," concluded the project director.
"Just one detail before we leave. Can we begin working on the house as soon as we return, I mean before the contract is signed?" asked Jeremiah, "We would like for it to be finished by winter...".
The director looked around at his colleagues in the room as they nodded affirmative and simply said, "Hurry back then and get started!"
Jeremiah and Mark heartily thanked the group, hugged each other and took their leave almost dancing through the door under the laughter of the others.
Mark's parents invited everybody out to celebrate in their favourite pub. After the meal and before the drinks flowed, Mark's Dad made a little speech in which he announced that he wanted to match Jeremiah's father's financial 'investment' in his son's joint venture with Jeremiah.
They were put on the train the following morning returning to Castlebay, happy and a bit overwhelmed by the way everything came out.
While on their way, Jeremiah called the president of the Barra and Vatersay Community to inform him of their agreement with the National Trust and to let him know that all the formal documents were to be sent among which a copy was being addressed to the their organisation. The president congratulated Jeremiah saying that he would like to meet his partner.
Back at the hotel, they went about placing the orders for all the material which should be delivered as quickly as possible. Within two weeks time, everything was discharged from the ferry and stocked in the little shed they had rented not far from the hostel.
It seemed like they were engaged in a race against the clock. They shuttled things non-stop and set up camp on a more permanent basis. As they started working on the house, it happened that kayakers and cliff climbers, visiting the island struck up conversation, commenting and congratulating them on their initiative.
Back in Barra, they became known as the new, 'mad' hermits on Pabbay and drew the admiration of almost everyone.
The job went ahead without any major problem. The worst was the blisters both of them had working with the hand tools, mixing the cement with shovels, sawing the rafters, climbing the ladder, carrying the buckets and you name it!
By mid September, they were able to start "humanising" the inside, setting up the little furnishings they had bought, stacking the firewood and storing the coal. On the first of October they moved in, lit their first fire inside, made the bed and cooked a gourmet supper with two bottles of very good wine to celebrate with.
Useless to make another description of their fabulous frolics of love through the night. Their souls, hearts and bodies harmonised in everything they did and their sex, unctuous and meaningful, was of no exception.
As the weeks advanced, the autumn light set in, blazing the evening sky with splashes of crimson. Late one evening, Mark made the following, wise observation. "Jeremiah, we should go and make stocks for the coming weeks. I'm sure we're going to be stuck more than once because of the gales."
"Wise decision! We'll go tomorrow!"
They made two round trips with the boat and pulled it high and dry on land. They were able to settle down to face any winds and waves that could besiege the island. In fact, now that they were ready and prepared, they were almost impatient to hear the hurling howls of a monstrous gale.
They didn't have to wait long. A few days later, little by little, grey clouds piled up, nearly black, and the winds began to moan in the chimneys. The pounding waves began to explode on the western cliffs, slinging ragged streaks of foam through the air.
The blazing coal warmed the room and the kerosene lamp cast its friendly glow as Jeremiah and Mark finished their supper. From time to time a blast of wind shrieked like a banshee making the roof quiver. The downpour turned the stream into a flooding torrent, rolling stones and dirt in its frantic rush to the sea. Inside, their home was was secure, safe and sound, no leaks in the roof, no gushes of wind belching smoke down the chimney.
As they undressed, Mark gently caressed Jeremiah and asked, almost teasing, "What about the book?"
Jeremiah climbed in bed and held open the covers for Mark. He was silent. Mark snuggled up to him as usual and blew out the lamp. Jeremiah began whispering, "No need for the book, mate. 'The Temptation of Simplicity'? No need to write it. It's already written... written in our flesh, with the wind and the tempest, written in our breath, in our juice and the flight of our hearts when we touch. The island is our book... and our lives, the never ending poem of our mornings and nights, of the procession of our days into months. Our silences have become a thousand times more eloquent than any words we could ever write. We are the book, Mark. Complexity was banished by the force of simplicity and here we are, you and I. Here we are, children of the storm, two simple lovers beheld in the gaze of angels. Daring simplicity, together, isn't really that complicated after all... We are the victory of simplicity."
Afterword : Jeremiah and Mark accepted the sponsorship of a solar satellite telephone for safety's sake. Whenever there was mail for them, the post office called. In case of injury or illness, they relied on the comprehensive free healthcare for all people living in Scotland. They both took out life insurance policies for their old age. The National Trust handled renting their house during the midsummer. They camped and set up minimal campsites for other visitors. For those who wanted, they took them on guided discovery hikes, explaining the island's history, geology, plants and wildlife. They also answered the frequent questions concerning their own exampletory lifestyle. For these simple services, they were often given very generous tips. Word passed around and each summer they received more and more people. These activities brought in all the cash they needed to cover their living expenses per year. It was all just as simple as that.
A photo album (pdf) concerning this story is available upon request marin.giustinian@laposte.net.