Threads

In the following story, all of the characters are totally fictive and the setting is real. For whomever it would be illegal, immoral or prohibited for any other reason whatsoever to read a story about love between two young men is kindly requested to refrain from continuing. A free picture album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon request at maringiustinian@laposte.net. Please remember to help Nifty stay online by sending your contribution. This being said, I hope you enjoy the tale.

THREADS

by Marin Giustinian

Edinburgh, nowadays

Early July days in Edinburgh seem to never end. When the weather is sunny, it's bright and light. James Duncan just couldn't stay inside! He took his work with him and drove over to the vast Holyrood Park at the foot of Arthur's Seat. He was a professional knitter, a creator of exclusive, natural casual wear for the better off gentry of Edinburgh and suburbs. This time he was finishing a light linen shawl for one of his choosier clients.

He spread his cover on the lawn and sat, Indian style, surrounded by his sacks and stuff. He was actually soaking in the sun, while his fingers flew on their own. That's when he noticed this very comely, lithe lad strolling by with a motorcycle helmet slung on one arm and a bulging paper bag under the other. His half-long auburn hair was a curly mess, falling down over his ears and forehead. He strode with determination. James stopped knitting as his eyes followed the young man.

James watched the young man spread an Air France blanket on the lawn and sit down on it Indian style, like himself. He then furtively glanced around, as if he were on the verge of rolling a joint. Instead, he took a wad of fleece and a drop spindle out of the paper bag. He pulled a wisp of fibres and fixed it on his spindle. Then he twirled the spindle and the thing fell.

He stifled a very definite, "Shit!" before trying again. This time he opened a kind of brochure and read something in it, giving his endeavour a second try.

At least this time, the spindle didn't fall. It worked. With great concentration, he painfully spun close to five inches of yarn. He giggled a little before looking around again, obviously proud of himself and his meagre accomplishment.

That's when he saw James knitting. The young man actually gawked. James was used to it. It happened all the time. When he knitted in public, the people aren't used to seeing a twenty-some year old, normal looking male knitting -- be it in a park or enjoying a pint in a pub.

James called out to him, exclaiming, "Spinning isn't that simple, is it?"

"For me knitting isn't either!" he quipped back, jesting.

"Come on over. I'll show you some tricks about spinning with a drop spindle."

"You spin too?"

"Who knits should know how to spin. In the olden times, every shepherd knew how to do both. I'm not a shepherd, but I work as if I were..."

The young man picked up his things and came to sit down beside James.

"It's not too complicated. Look," James said, pulling a draught of fibre, fixing it to the spindle with just a slight return, and giving it an easy twirl. Then he released the pinch and the fibre twisted itself up a few inches. James then repeated the action. The young man was absorbed by James's face and his nimble fingers.

"That's absolutely fascinating... I think I understand," the lad uttered.

Giving the fleece and spindle back, James said, "Give it a try now."

He took a deep breath and looked very tense.

"First of all, you must relax. Otherwise, your yarn will kink."

"That's the hard part! Relaxing!"

The fellow let his jaw drop a bit, shrugged and let his shoulders fall. He took a deep breath and began. This time it worked much better.

"Wow! Thank you!" he beamed, smiling at James.

"You're welcome."

Laying his spinning down, the young man held out his hand and said, "By the way, my name's Mike Campbell."

James took Mike's hand.

"I'm James Duncan. Pleased to meet you, Mike."

They both went back to their respective jobs.

"Is knitting your hobby?" inquired Mike.

"No, it's my job. I knit for a living," replied James, with his needles flying again.

"You mean knitting can be a profession?"

"Touch this."

James handed the ball of luxury linen yarn over to Mike.

"Feel it."

Mike gently squeezed it, looking up at James, smiling.

"Soft... No?" he whispered.

"And so light..."

"Luxury fibre. I do exclusive knitwear for clients who pay the price. I'm neither rich, nor poor... and I'm free to work when and where I please."

Well, from that point on, they began talking about themselves. There was an obvious bond there. However, Mike seemed to be a bit mixed up over what he was feeling.

James learned that Mike had just finished his secondary schooling. He didn't know what he wanted to do after. He still lived with his parents on Regent Terrace. His father, Roy Campbell, was a psychotherapist and his mother, Rachel, taught Economics in a posh little college near the Royal Botanic Gardens.

James inquired, "How did you get interested in spinning?"

"I've a friend, a girl... not a girlfriend, mind you... that told me that when I get really nervous I should spin or crochet or do something like that. It calms you down, so she said, and since I get nervous often, I went to McAree's on Howe Street and bought this kit..."

"She's right..." James added.

"Well, as I was going to say, learning how to spin out of a book makes me even more nervous!" he laughed.

"There are some things you need to learn, hands on, with somebody else. You'll see, once you get the reflexes, it's great! You know, like riding a motorcycle."

"I suppose... " Mike uttered, obviously thinking about what James just said.

"What do you drive?" inquired James, indicating the biker's helmet.

"My Dad's just bought me a new Yamaha 125 YBR Cruiser. It's great in town," Mike replied, returning to his spinning under the watchful eye of James, knitting away, as his needles clicked.

After a few minutes of attentive efforts, Mike exclaimed, "Hey, look, James! I've at least a foot of thread. Do you want it?"

"Spin me two balls and I'll knit you a bonnet..."

"Two balls? That's a lot..."

Then thinking more about it, Mike exclaimed, "But, why not! It's a deal!"

A lady, walking an angry poodle, glanced at them with a puzzled look.

They both chuckled and went back to work. James finished his supply of yarn, and told Mike that he was sorry, but he had to go. Mike said he did too. They packed up their stuff and walked over to where Mike's bike and James car were parked side by side.

When Mike saw James open the door of his elegant little Mazda roadster, he exclaimed, "Nice car you've got there. I noticed it when I drove up. That's why I parked here... Can you believe it? I stopped first by your car, and then beside you!"

"Destiny, I guess. Anyway, I'm glad to meet another thread fiend, Ha!"

"Could you give me your number? That way I can call when I've spun the two balls. You remember our deal, don't you?"

"Give me your phone. I'll punch it in. Call whenever you finish. I always keep my promises!"

Ten days later, James's mobile rang.

"Hello..."

"Is that you, James? Mike Campbell speaking..."

"How are you, Mike?"

"I've got my two balls..."

James laughed.

"I mean my YARN balls that is... You remember, don't you?"

"So you're now a wizard with the drop spindle, I presume," James jested.

"You'll see... When can we meet... and where?"

"Why don't you come to my place around three? I live in a loft over my garage on Circus Lane, Number 19. "

"Brilliant! I'll be there at three."

"Good. See you tomorrow."

There was a slight hesitation and then he said, "I'm really glad we're going to see each other again, James."

James uttered, "Uh... I'm glad too, Mike. Bye."

The doorbell rang. James went to the intercom.

"Mike?"

"It's me."

"I'll buzz you open. Just come on up."

Mike emerged into an open space under the rafters.

"Welcome to my bachelor's flat, Mike. It's a bit warm up here with the slates on the roof... Would you like something cool to drink?"

"With pleasure, James..."

"Plop down on the pile of cushions there in front of the fireplace. I made some fresh lemonade this morning. I'll fetch it in the fridge."

Mike put his helmet and sack by the door and looked around.

"So this is what you call a loft... First time I've ever seen one. It's really nice... Sort of timeless -- and simple, no fancy curtains, chandeliers, carpets and stuff."

"Well, it's home. As you see, everything's open... the only closed space is the loo. The utilities and firewood are in the back of the garage, with my car."

"And that glassed-in space... Is that your bathroom? I see a free standing sink and a rain shower overhead."

"I call it my wet room. It's a lot of fun, showering there... there's space galore and even for the eyes, I don't feel all cooped up."

"Sounds great. So do you work up here as well?"

"Look in those drawers over there."

There were skeins and balls of yarn. On the table there was a vase holding at least twenty different sizes of knitting needles, forming a sort of bouquet.

"Everywhere's my work space. It all depends on how I feel. I enjoy working anywhere I fancy... like in the park where we met."

"Do you receive your clients here too?"

"No, I go to their homes. Here, it's private."

"I see..."

There was a little lull in the conversation as they sipped the lemonade. Then James chuckled a little and said, "So... do you want to show me your balls?"

Mike blushed, jumped up and laughed, "Of yarn, of course!"

He dug into his sack and came back with his work, knelt on the cushions and presented the yarn to James. Suddenly, with a very serious expression on his brow, James squeezed them, then took a strand and twisted it between his thumb and index. Unrolling a long thread, he tested the tensility and found it excellent.

"Is this the first or the second ball you spun?"

"The second, I think."

"It's really well done. For a beginner, you've got the touch."

Mike beamed.

"You'll get your bonnet before the winter. You don't need it now, I suppose."

"Whenever, James! I loved doing it. I'm going to spin some more."

"Where did you find the lambswool fleece?"

"At McAree's."

"Do you have your spindle? I want you to try something -- that is, if you want."

"No problem!"

Mike hopped up again and went to his sack. In the meantime, James came back from another chest with a wad of alpaca fleece in one hand and a mix of silky flax and angora in the other.

"Could you make a draught of these together and give it a spin, just to see how you handle these fibres?"

"If you want... but why?"

"Give it a try. I'll tell you later."

Mike's fingers pulled and stretched the fibres.

"It's like petting a cloud, James!"

"Yes, it's very good stuff..."

Mike began spinning and the thread flowed out of the fleece and flax like magic.

"You can stop now, Mike. That's all I needed to see. You're quite talented, you know. Hand spun yarn is far more elegant and living than mechanically spun yarn."

Mike listened attentively.

"These fibers are alive. Your fingers are alive too. You feel the fleece -- and it feels you and the fleece is happy to comply to your touch and become yarn. The difference isn't really that visible, but hand-spun yarn gives a distinctly sensual feeling to the skin that ordinary yarn just can't give."

"I never thought about that..."

"Listen, there're two things I want to ask you. But first of all, can you spare me an hour or so more?"

"No problem."

James told Mike that he wanted him to spin for him. He could come and work in the loft. Mike immediately nodded, saying he'd love to do that.

Also, he told him that the following week, he had a showing scheduled.

"I usually exhibit my stuff on black silhouettes, cut out in plywood, but seeing your good looks, I'd like to add your presence, modeling a few creations during my next showing? Everything I knit is unisex. Since you're svelte and very becoming, I'm sure you'll appeal to the ladies as well as to the few gents who attend."

"If you think I can do the job, I'm your man."

"Would you like to try on a few things and get the feel of them. I'd like to see how they look on you. Let's have some fun!"

When James handed him the alpaca lounge pants, Mike said, "James, I'm sorry, but I don't have any underwear on..."

"So what?"

"You mean I can wear these lounge pants naked?"

"Naked or not... Doesn't matter."

"Okay, if it's fine for you, it's fine for me too."

Mike stepped out of his jeans and pulled the light, soft pants on. He tied the drawstring, and then slipped into the matching sweater. The fabric seemed to float on Mike's lithe frame, flattering his naturally silken skin. He moved around smiling.

"I feel naked and beautiful at the same time with these clothes on..."

"You are stunning, Mike, and I spun the yarn in those pants myself. I didn't know I was doing it for you! Ha!"

"I'm really glad you did!"

As he walked around, the garment caressed his sex and Mike began to blush. He discreetly placed a hand over his growing bulge.

"Don't worry about that, Mike. It's only natural with the softness of the fabric. Feels really good, I'm sure..."

"Too good, James... as you can see!"

"For the showing, we'll get you a dancer's jock to keep things under control," laughed James, "and now, undress while I fetch another coordinate. This time it's a pair of tights and a sleeveless smock. This is definitely a feminine garment so don't flaunt. Stay just like you are. It'll give it sexier impact."

Being very absorbed in modeling, Mike's 'problem' withered back to normal.

"So do you agree to model for me?"

"I'm still your man, James."

"Good, I'm glad."

"James, I've a favour to ask... Listen, these clothes are much warmer than I expected! If we've finished, could I take a shower to cool off some?"

"No problem, Mike... Let me grab you a towel."

"What a relief. I was dying to try out your wet room anyway! You're really 'one cool guy' as the Americans say!"

"Why, thank you, Mike... and you're 'one hot teen' yourself, as the Americans say!"

While Mike was showering, James didn't deprive himself of admiring the vision. Mike even hummed a little as he stretched and turned under the falling water, obviously feeling his body in a new, free way. The miracle of vanishing timidity, trust, and dawning lust was beginning to happen.

Mike came out and exclaimed, "That was absolutely wonderful!"

"You were wonderful to look at too."

Mike blushed, took the towel and began to dry off.

"Once you're dressed. Let's go enjoy a pint before you leave. We've got some business to discuss."

"Count on your man, James!"

Mike came every day to James's loft to spin, chat and simply enjoy his company.

The day of the showing finally arrived. Mike put his motorcycle in the garage and together they drove to Culross. James had rented the main hall of a Georgian manor house, remodeled for venues. They installed the knitted items on abstract suggestions of androgynous silhouettes. The effect was quite elegant. Then they placed them hither and yon in the space. A long table, decorated with a fabulous floral centrepiece stood at the end of the hall in front of the fireplace. All sorts of nibbles were spread on it and two sterling silver punch bowls waited to be filled with lime sherbet punch.

As the opening hour neared, Mike retired to the dressing room. He stripped, doused a sedate fragrance of sandal and heather on his pits and fluffed his hair a little. He then put a dab of gloss on his lips, and adjusted for the third time his rather uncomfortable jock.

He breathed deeply, opened the door, and went down the hallway to wait behind the door for his cue to enter.

James was greeting his guests as they came in. Among the fifty or so of them, James immediately recognised Mike's parents. Rachel Campbell was stunning and Roy was quite handsome himself. James now knew why Mike was so becoming.

"Good afternoon, I'm James Duncan. You must be Mike's parents."

"How did you guess?" smiled Mrs. Campbell, holding out her hand.

"Knowing Mike, no need for further explanations," quipped back James with a smile.

"I'm really pleased to finally meet you, Mr. Duncan," she said, "Mike has told us so much about you!"

Roy, Mike's father added, "In fact, James, if I didn't know better, I could be jealous. Mike has never been so lighthearted and open since working with you."

"He's a real pleasure to coach, and a very efficient helper. Now you must excuse me. I've a few words to pronounce before you see your son at work..."

James went to the door where Mike was waiting and cracked it open.

"You're perfect, Mike! Remember, just be natural..."

"I'm scared to death, James."

"Well, look natural and smile while you die!"

"Break a leg..." whispered Mike, squeezing James's arm.

"You too... And, by the way, I'm scared witless, myself!" whispered James in return.

"Go make your speech, James... before I wet myself."

They exchanged a thumbs-up and James went back into the noisy hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please, just a word or two."

The hall hushed.

"Thank you again for coming all the way out here for my autumn and winter showing. This year's theme is white on white. I hope it doesn't bring us too much snow!"

Gentle laughter.

"If there's an item that you fancy or would like to personalise, just call for an appointment."

Indicating the table behind him, James continued, "As you can see, there are goodies galore and a lovely, slightly spiked punch for all. Don't hesitate to indulge. Just one more thing... this afternoon, there'll a charming young model roaming around among us. You're allowed to touch the garment, but not the young man! Now carry on and, please, do enjoy yourselves."

As the people applauded, James turned up the background music and when Mike came into the hall, there was a sudden hush and then more applause. One could hear words like 'splendid' or 'beautiful' murmured here and there...'

Mike's parents sided up to James. Rachel said, "I must have the sweater and pants Mike's wearing. Please reserve them for me."

"Mike will deliver. By the way, he spun the yarn for the left sleeve. You'll see, it's slightly different from the rest. I like that a lot."

"I want to pay you now... How much do I owe you?"

"I think five hundred would do."

As Roy was writing out the cheque, he mentioned, "James, I never realised how gorgeous Mike really is. He's radiant."

"Yes, he is. Thank you both for fostering him!"

"You know, James," added Rachel, "Mike is very happy over his summer job, modeling and spinning for you. I don't know how he picked up that activity, but since he likes it, we do too."

The festivities continued. Mike changed into the other coordinates, walked around, and was duly admired. James sold all his creations and filled his appointment book for further orders.

It was close to six when everybody had left. Mike was back into his own clothes. He sided up to James, "Happy?"

James held out his arms, exclaiming, "Very happy! And you did a really great job!"

Mike melted a little in James's hug, confessing, "It was the best thing that ever happened to me. Really... My parents were so happy I nearly wept. They like you a lot!"

Not knowing how to handle the compliment, James simply replied, "I'm glad... Let's finish up and go. You can pick up your motorcycle and, if you want, grab a shower. We'll then meet at the restaurant."

James told his hosts that a van would come the next day to take away the silhouettes. He paid the bill and away they sped into the night.

Once back in the loft, James began undressing. Mike did the same. Slightly bowing, James joked, "After you, fair prince!"

"No, after you, Milord..."

Then together they bumped into each other, entering the wet room.

As they were soaping up each and slipping together under the rain, Mike said, "James... I want to kiss you... please..."

James simply opened his arms. Mike leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. James gave him a puzzled look, saying, "Is that what you call a kiss?"

"You mean... a real kiss... on the mouth and all?"

"Yes, that's what I meant."

Their very stiff cocks collided as they shared an awkward, but authentic kiss. The shower steamed as they laughed. Mike licked his lips with a broad smile on his red face.

James did the same, saying, "Mmm... That was really good, Mike. Now, let's dress and get going! And don't forget your mother's coordinates."

Two of James's best clients and their husbands, had invited both Mike and himself to dine with them after the showing. Mike waited for James in front of the restaurant on Grassmarket. He didn't want to go in by himself. James finally showed up.

"It took me ages to find a parking place!" he huffed, "Let's go in."

Their friends were at the bar. They welcomed James and covered Mike with all kinds of kind compliments. They claimed the table they had reserved and seated James, facing Mike, in the middle.

The place was packed. The music was good, and the dinner delicious. James was proud to show off his young collaborator and companion. From time to time, he and Mike winked, smiling at each other. As the evening went on, Mike couldn't refrain from yawning. Embarrassed, he leaned over and whispered in James's ear, "I'm terribly tired. I think it's time for me to go home. Do you think your friends would be offened if I excused myself and left?"

James touched Mike's cheek and said, "I'll go with you to your bike."

"I can make it on my own, James."

"I know you can, but I'm coming anyway."

Mike thanked everybody and bid them all good night. James said he'd be right back.

The night was balmy.

"Do I see you tomorrow, Mike?"

"Definitely!" stated Mike, opening his arms wide open.

"Another one?"

"Please..."

Their close hug lingered with a kiss.

"You really kiss well, James..."

"So do you, Mike... So do you."

At 2:00 PM on the dot, the intercom buzzed. James opened and Mike came jogging up the stairs. After a few words of small talk, they went to work. Nothing was said about their kisses. However, their bond had strengthened enough for Mike to finally ask, "James, can I ask you something personal?"

"Please... what do you want to know?"

"You never talk about yourself. You can tell me to mind my own business if you want. I won't be offended. But, it's just that I'd like to know you better, know where you come from and how did you get to where you are now?"

"When you ask how I got to where I am now... do you mean the loft, the work, whatever?"

"All that."

James laid down his knitting and halfway reclined in the cushions. He took a deep breath and began.

"Well, I'll begin with a tragedy. When I was ten, both my father and mother were killed in a helicopter accident. My father piloted the shuttle between Aberdeen and the North Sea oil rigs. My Mum was with him for some reason. We lived in Aberdeen where I was born. Sometimes, they sent me to my grandparents' home here in Edinburgh for holidays. I never met my other grandparents. Mum was American. She was on an exchange programme over here, met my father, and got married. Her family sort of disapproved of her refusing to return to Alabama. My parents were everything for me. They spoiled me with love. We cuddled a lot. Dad always found time to play with me, and..."

James took another breath and sighed. Mike simply put his hand on James's arm and waited in silence.

"So! Be it bad weather, fate, whatever, they went down and I was left to go live with my grandparents in the house just across the lane. I attended school, but made few friends. I mostly stayed at home. My grandmother taught me knitting. It helped me a lot to get over my grief. The more I knitted the better were the results. She taught me how to spin too. She came from the Highlands. I created some very simple sweaters and after finishing high school, I began knitting full time and selling my scarves, bonnets and such on the various markets in the city. My parents' insurance left me with a small fortune that I could use as I liked, but only at the age of eighteen. I didn't know what to do with the money. My grandparents said I could stay as long as I wanted. So to be brief... I made my first private showing at the age of twenty. It was a big success. My grandfather suffered a heart condition... too much tobacco and whiskey. I loved him a lot too. Well, he had a massive attack sitting in his armchair watching the telly. Since you have to die sometime, I guess that way is one of the best... My grandmother didn't want to stay on in the house. Oh, I forgot to mention the fact that the house has been in the family for three generations. It dates from the time when Circus Lane was a working class neighbourhood. Well, grandmother went to a retirement home, leaving me to handle everything, including this garage and loft they owned. This was grandfather's place. He kept his little Morris inside and had his workbench set up in the back. The upstairs flat was empty. I spent a part of my money tearing out everything and renovating it into a loft for myself. I totally modernised the house, furnished it, installed a fully equipped kitchen, and en suite bathrooms. It's rented for tourists. I have an agency that manages that. The income pays grandmother's bills... and later on... We'll see..."

James, drifted off a bit, lost in his thoughts. Then he wiped his face and smiled, saying, "So there you have it all, I think..."

Mike was touched.

"How old are you, James?"

"Twenty-seven."

"And you've never fallen in love?"

"Love... Not really. I'm sure that love is the best thing that can happen to people and when it ends, I'm sure it's the worst damn thing next to dying. I've suffered enough losing loved ones... and somehow, to be frank, girls don't really affect me in a 'loving' way."

There was another silence. James gazed back into Mike's large, golden eyes. The silence was rich and deep. It ended in a sigh as James concluded, "You know, Mike... when I'm by myself, I'm not in bad company."

"Am I bad company, James?"

"No, I'm afraid not, Mike... not at all."

Mike came every day. He became a skilled spinner. The weather had changed. It was the beginning of August, no longer summer, not yet autumn, and the evenings were cooler, with frequent showers.

One afternoon, Mike came up saying, "With my parents, we're celebrating my eighteenth birthday tonight. It's not my real birthday though. I was born on my parents' wedding anniversary. Since they decided a few months ago to take a second honeymoon, they'll be gone for my real birthday."

Mike jittered a little. He seemed a little nervous.

"They're going on a very posh cruise to the Arctic, and are leaving Saturday. So... So I'm going to be by myself for two full weeks now. My father told me that since I'm almost a legal adult, I can fend for myself. Of course, I agreed... and now, I guess I have to get used to being on my own... at least to a certain extent..."

"When is your real birthday?"

"August, the 14th. Why?"

"We can celebrate it together if you want."

"How's that?"

"I can cook a meal, buy some wine and we can celebrate... Nothing fancy, just some fun time together."

"Really? Just the two of us? Here?"

"Just the two of us... here."

"Whoopee! Yessssss!"

The 14th arrived. A gentle rain was falling. James had lit a fire for lamb chops and baked potatoes and bought a big, banana cake with eighteen candles stuck in it for dessert. There was a bottle of Burgundy for their meal and a bottle of champagne in the fridge for the cake. James had knitted Mike's bonnet with a bonus scarf for his present.

Mike arrived. When he stripped off his biker's jacket, a scent of Guerlain flowed in with him. He was dressed in his most stylish casuals. James was pleasantly impressed.

"I'm so excited about our little party, James! Thank you again," he exclaimed, giving James a peck on the cheek.

"It's all my pleasure, Mike. For all that you've done for me --without being paid -- this is the least I could do. Make yourself comfortable. Would you like a beer or do we start off directly with the wine?"

"Let's uncork the wine! You said we're going to have a French dinner... I hope it's not snails and frog legs!"

"We're going to cook lamb chops and ash potatoes in the fireplace, have some stinky cheese, and then indulge in a sinfully gooey banana cake. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like heaven! Let me pull the cork!"

They had fun preparing the dinner together and even more fun eating it, taking their time, sipping the hefty red wine. When it came time to blow out the candles on the banana cake, they were laughing. If they were feeling high, they weren't really drunk, just tipsy enough to let inhibitions go.

"Look at all that cake that's left, James..."

"We can eat if for breakfast."

Mike looked a little surprised and then smiled with a glint in his eye, asking, "Does that mean I spend the night here, with you?"

James shrugged and replied, smiling, "I hadn't planned it, but don't you think it's a good idea. We have to finish the champagne and with the wet cobblestones, it wouldn't be safe for you on your motorbike, would it?"

"Not safe at all! Ha!"

James poured two more brimming cups of sparkling champagne.

"Let's drink to your eighteenth trip around the sun, to our friendship, and to our first night together."

"To our first night together!"

They raised their cups and drank a sip.

"James, I just thought about something..."

"What?"

"I didn't bring pyjamas... not even a toothbrush."

"I guess you'll have to do like me and sleep in the nude... as for the toothbrush, if you're not afraid of my germs, you can use mine."

"No problem."

"There, that's settled."

"Since it's a French dinner and French champagne, I want a French kiss now... Please!" begged Mike sliding in closer to James.

In the candlelight glow in front of the fire, their mouths met. The kiss seemed endless.

Coming up for breath, Mike proclaimed, "Your tongue is soooo sweet, my wonderful, glorious James."

They lifted their cup once more and James spilt a drop or two.

"Don't move!"

Mike pulled James's jersey off and bent down to lick his chest. James stretched his arms over his head. Mike then kissed his nipples and snuggled some into James's neck. He sighed with satisfaction as he abandoned his head in James's warm, welcoming embrace. His hand vaguely wandered over James's navel. Gradually it strayed a bit lower. He delicately unbuttoned the waist of James's trousers and slid his slender fingers inside. James let it happen.

The soft summer sounds of the city came and went in the breathing silence of the loft. James's leaking cock found refuge in Mike's grip. He squeezed it ever so slightly. James's cock throbbed, begging for attention. Then he flipped over on Mike. Grabbing the lad's firm buttocks, he pulled, their crotches grinding into each other's. They entwined their legs, their foreheads touching. Breathing the same air, gently writhing, Mike whimpered, burning with lust. The pungent scent of their perspiration spurred them on. The moment became urgent. James uttered, "Bed..."

Mike's hoarse voice replied, "Yes..."

Suddenly, they tackled, pulling on each other's pants, laughing like lads skinny dipping on a summer's afternoon. They gleefully surrendered to the torrent of their sudden yearning, laughing and tumbling their way to James's large bed.

They savagely licked and kissed pits, cocks, navels and necks. Sweat and saliva replaced the taste of champagne on their lips. They sucked each other's cocks deeper and deeper. Their thirst became a frenzy of tongues and throats. Then the lightning bolt of a shared orgasm struck them both. Semen surged from the most intimate depth within each. They swallowed and swallowed even more. And then all was silent. They lazily caressed, fondled, and kissed, satiated. Little by little, slipping into deep oblivion, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

James was holding Mike as he woke up.

"How do you feel this morning, my stinky angel?"

"Never felt better, prickly beard!"

"Any afterthoughts about what happened last night?"

"Never felt better, I said. It was simply wonderful. By the way, what do you have planned for today?"

"Why?"

"I want to spend the day in bed with you," Mike replied smiling like a little fox.

Running his hands up and down James's back, he rolled over on him and asked, "Have you ever fucked... or been fucked?"

James was taken off guard. The question was indeed rather blunt, to say the least.

"And you, Mike? Have you had intercourse, one way or the other?"

"No, all I know about fucking is what I've seen on the internet and in gay porn magazines. I'm sure we could fuck better than they do."

"If you don't mind, I'd prefer you using the term 'intercourse' instead of 'fucking'."

"Isn't it the the same thing?"

"Technically speaking, yes... but..."

"I understand. So, do we stay in today and have inter..."

"Yes,... but let's drink some coffee, eat birthday cake, and shower, first."

Mike darted out of the bed, shouting, "Meet you in the wet room!"

James, hardly believing what was happening to him, joined Mike in the gentle rain -- no more restraint, only tender abandon.

"James, I want you in me first. Do you have any lotion, almond oil or anything I can massage your cock with?"

"There's some baby oil in the bottom drawer by the sink."

Once back in bed, Mike slathered James's cock with the ointment, mixing it with his own oozing slick. James stared in Mike's eyes with increasing excitation.

"God! You're beautiful, Mike... You look so delicate. Are you sure about what we're doing?"

"Yes, James. I'm very sure," he replied, laying back, spread his thighs. On his face, an unmistakable smile invited him in. James hovered over him. Mike gently guided the tip of James's rigid cock to his entry. Trembling a little, James slowly moved, pushing in.

"Do I hurt you, Mike?"

"Push! Don't worry, it can't hurt..."

Mike hardly winced, only gasped an instant, and uttered, "It doesn't hurt, because it's for you, James. It's you in me... You! Oh God! Ahhh! There you are! -- deep in me... Oh... James, more..."

With instinctive insistence, James gently pushed, then backed a bit and pushed again. Enraptured, Mike hummed, softly squeezing and releasing James's cock with his most intimate muscles. Suddenly, he grabbed James by the buttocks and tugged as he ejaculated with startled eyes, over and over, moaning. As this happened, clenched inside Mike, James was lost in lust. He grunted and thrusted with all his might, arched and spewed all he could, writhing even deeper into Mike, touching his soul, losing his own.

Drained, James collapsed, panting. Totally surrendering to Mike's tender embrace, ever so slowly, his limp, slick cock slipped out. James's eyes glowed. So did Mike's. Each silently knew that nothing would be as it was before -- a new life had just begun.

"I want you in me now, Mike..."

"Now?"

"Yes! That is if you can. Why wait? Perhaps after another shower?"

"And more cake..." Mike laughed, licking his lips.

They alternated intercourse and fellatio until mid-afternoon. They rode on the riptide of youth's unequaled ardour, spilling the imperious flow of their budding love.

Exhausted and starved, Mike whispered in James's ear, "I love you."

"What did you say?"

"I said I LOVE YOU! Are you deaf or what?"

"I LOVE YOU TOO!" James shouted back, as he began to torture Mike with tickles.

"STOP IT! That's not fair! STOP I SAID!" screamed Mike flailing his legs as James straddled him, tickling on and on.

"I love you, love you, love you -- and love you even more!" James repeated as Mike howled, wriggling and tossing in the sweaty sheets of their bed in paradise.

"STOP IT! I beg you, James, STOP!" Mike pled, laughing to tears.

James fell on Mike, stating, "Stop? Never, Mike Campbell! I can never stop loving you!"

"Really?" giggled Mike catching his breath.

"Absolutely!"

"And I, Mike Campbell, declare that I fell in love with you, James Duncan, the first day I saw you... and today is just a glimpse of the beginning!"

"Do you think we'll survive all the love we're making," jested James.

"Of course we shall, because you are you and I am me!"

"How about something to eat?" James suggested, kissing Mike's navel.

"Do we have to dress?"

"My pantry's empty and I don't see us walking into the local pub stark naked..."

"We still have all night, don't we, James?"

"Of course! Sooner we leave, sooner we're back!"

Mike moved in with James.

They talked about becoming business partners: Mike spinning and James knitting. They planned trips to the Highlands and the Hebrides to purchase the finest woollen fleece. They both decided that a small, exclusive clientele was the best to cater to and not try to grow any bigger.

They also talked about how to come out to Mike's parents. Mike didn't seem to worry about that. Maybe his mother would be a bit upset, but he trusted his father to no end.

"You'll see, James. We're now inseparable... We've got the power!"

Mike's parents returned. Mike waited for them in their house. Things went fast.

The next morning at eight, Mike called James, "There's something great I have to tell you! I'm coming over now."

Mike ran up the stairs, out of breath.

"Take it easy, Mike."

"Did you miss me?"

"No, I didn't miss you, dimwit! I was simply dying without you! Happy?"

"Well, it's good you didn't die. Listen to this."

Mike explained that after dinner, they talked about the cruise. Then, out of the blue, he said his mother asked him if he and James had become more intimate while they were away.

"I replied, Mum, I'm in love with James and James is in love with me and we did it every day and sometimes more than that. She smiled and said, 'Congratulations'. I asked her if she was upset that I'm gay? She said, "Dear, we have known you're gay ever since the maid showed us your gay magazines and stained handkerchief hidden under the mattress." I'm sure I turned beet red! She went on saying, that she was simply upset that I didn't have a boyfriend. Can you believe that? Well, then we went up to Dad's study. She told me to break the news to him. I told him the same thing I told Mum. For the first time, he stood and hugged me for a long, long time, and then asked, "Son, are you sure you love him?" He said, 'Son' and not 'Mike'. He never called me 'Son'... I thought I'd weep right there. I told him that I was sure because I fell in love with you the first day I saw you. He nodded and replied, 'So you fell in love with your James, like I did when I first saw your mother.' Then Mum said, "Return to James the first thing in the morning and see if he agrees on your moving in with him... and of course, invite him to dinner Sunday!"

"Is that all?"

"Well, yes -- That's great, isn't it!"

James said nothing.

"So here I am, James... what do you say about all that?"

"About what?"

"About what my Mum said, dumbhead?"

"Having dinner Sunday?"

"SHIT NO! Well, yes... Damn it, you confuse me... "

"I'd be glad to come to dinner and..."

"James! DO YOU want ME, I mean US to LIVE... HERE together?"

"Let me finish my sentence! ...and I want you to move in with me forever."

Mike tried to say something but nothing came out.

"Listen, blockhead, is water wet? Is fire hot? OF COURSE I want you to move in here. Now, can you live with only the bare essentials?"

Mike gasped and then spurted, "YOU are my bare essential, James... I swear it! All I want is to learn what I can from you and love you all the time. Nothing else matters!"

"Not even your laptop..."

"Well, yes, my laptop... Oh, James, we'll work together, travel together and..."

"And all the rest, I assure you, my wonderful lover!"

"If you have time, maybe we can go get my things later in the day. I'm already packed."

"If we have time," replied James unbuckling Mike's jeans.

"Well, it's not that urgent, but..." Mike said, unbuttoning James's shirt.

James yanked Mike's jeans down. Mike waddled, trying to free his feet. James grabbed him as they both fell in the pile of cushions on the floor, laughing like mad.

"You're right, Mike. Urgency should never lead us astray from what's more important, should it?"

Clothes flew all over the room.

"Never!"

DUNCAN & CAMPBELL casuals became a must in the wardrobes of the highest circles of the Scottish society.

THE END

A free picture album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon request at maringiustinian@laposte.net.