Hi all you guys! Oh, I'm sooo horny this morning. I woke up with a stomper like I haven't had since my mid-teens! Now I could do with a long, hard session but will have to make do with William! Oh, well. On with the story. "William" was composed in June, 2006 and is the oldest of my tales. It is short and probably full of mistakes and grammatical errors, etc., but I thought you might find it amusing or whatever. Thanks, by the way, for those of you who take the trouble to give me honest opinions about my efforts. It encourages me to make more effort to get things more interesting!
William was melancholy. He lay beneath the bedcovers, gazing at the stained ceiling of his small bedroom. Rain pattered against the window, early morning light filtered bleakly through the thin curtains. "Fucking rain!" he thought, "going to get bloody soaked again." He heard the swish of rush-hour tyres on wet roads. Somewhere in the distance a police siren wailed. Some stupid bastard going too fast again. William's mood of sullen depression deepened as a gust of wind hurled a rattle of raindrops against the window.
"What the fucking hell am I doing here? Books, books and more bloody books. That arsehole of a tutor - what the fuck does he know about the lives real people lead? Closet queen. Lived all his miserable life on campus. And he had the shitting nerve to put the make on me - and I let him! I let him suck me off! I'm almost twenty-one and I've no money, no real friends since Adam left, no LIFE! What the fuck made Adam go off to Paris? Why did he have that sudden urge to study at the Sorbonne?"
Adam had had it all: wealthy family, Tom Hanks looks and the equipment to match. He'd won his rugby blue, he was a model scholar heading for a decent First, he could drive his sporty little car like a dream, girls flocked round him like moths round a candle flame - and he'd been William's mate, confidant, bed-fellow, lover. But Adam was not around anymore: he'd simply vanished very early one morning, leaving a hastily scrawled note on William's rickety bedside table. William made a decision. "Shit! I'm chucking this lot in! Gonna get a job - any fucking job - and learn to drive. Get away from here!"
William finished shaving and stepped into the shower. He was forced to use the communal bathroom, as he couldn't afford an en suite room in this bug hutch of a hostel, run by a harridan whom he had dubbed Mother Bitch. He turned the shower full on, hot and hard to remind him of how Adam's masterpiece cock had felt against him. He let the steam and water envelope him, wanting it to wash away his dark mood. He lathered himself as the steaming water flowed down his back. A soapy hand lovingly caressed his tumescent maleness, already responding to the stimulus of the stinging spray of hot water. With his other hand, he reached behind and lathered his streaming buttocks. Two soapy fingers slid between them, teasingly. He threw back his head, eyes closed, his face receiving the full force of the spraying water. The hand fondling his rigid manhood began an involuntary rhythmical stroking movement. A wave of self-disgust and self-loathing swept over him.
"NO!" he shouted to himself, "Stop!" He stepped out of the shower, straight on to the bar of soap which had fallen on to the floor, and skittered across the tiled floor only to ram his head into the opposite wall. He cursed, loudly and profanely. This was going to be a bad day! He put a small plaster over the small cut on his forehead, dressed and left the hostel, without running into Mother Bitch. Thank fuck she wasn't about yet. Could do without her sniping and prying.
William walked up The Avenue, huddled into his dowdy duffel coat, vainly seeking protection from the persistent rain. Two dishevelled down-and-outs thought of mugging him but soon changed their minds when they realised that William was almost as penniless and destitute as they were. They wandered off, looking for richer prey. "Christ," thought William, "scavengers feeding on scavengers! What is happening to people?"
He decided to go on to campus to see if there were any part-time jobs posted on the Hall notice boards. He needed to step off this treadmill. He imagined he could hear Adam's voice railing at him: "Get a life, Will! Get out there and do something, anything. You're not made for a life of books." As his thoughts dwelt on the absent Adam, a dull sickening ache invaded the pit of his stomach. He stopped, bending over as if he was going to vomit.
"You alright, young man?" A deep, kindly voice brought him back upright.
William turned and saw a tall man who was probably in his late forties. He was protected from the lashing rain by a large, expensive umbrella; he was wearing a dark, expensive winter overcoat and expensive black kid gloves; expensive black shoes and an expensive dark suit. The collar of his crisp, expensively snowy-white shirt supported a neatly knotted, expensive black silk tie. He had just stepped out of a large, expensive chauffeur-driven black limousine.
"Thanks, I'm fine, just a twinge. It's gone now." William made to walk on but a gloved hand restrained him, resting on his arm.
"You don't look very well. Are you sure you are alright?" the man persisted. "On your way to the university?" A gloved finger lightly tapped the books William was holding close to his body in an attempt to shield them from the rain.
"Yes, but it's OK, I'll be fine." William felt a slight panic rising in him. He wanted to get away. He edged away from the stranger.
"Look, young man, I am a doctor. I'm on my way to my surgery in Allenbrooke Lane. Let me check you over. I know all about young students and their dietary habits!" He smiled warmly, gazing into William's pale eyes.
William gazed back, a strange feeling coming over him. He knew this man - or at least there was something about him - his bearing, the timbre of his voice, something - which William recognised. His panic began to subside.
"That's kind of you, sir, but I'm quite OK."
"My rooms are not that far and Allenbrooke Lane is on your route." He turned, indicating his chauffeur. "Marcus here can soon run you up to the campus. Don't worry," he added quickly, sensing William's hesitancy, "I won't send you a bill!" He chuckled softly, waiting for William to respond to the invitation.
"Well, OK." William sounded reluctant. He thought, "At least I'll get out of this fucking rain."
The man reached down and opened the rear door of the limousine. "In you get, then. By the way, what's your moniker?" William was startled. Adam had always used that peculiar word.
"Er - William."
"Right, William. I am Louis Harrier." William was stunned.
He got in to the plush interior of the limousine, sinking back into the soft leather upholstery. Louis Harrier went round behind the vehicle and got in on the other side, next to William. As he settled back, he pressed a button on the armrest panel beside him. A glass partition separating the rear passengers from the driver slid to one side.
"Right, Marcus, take us home, please."
Marcus started the engine and eased the large car into the traffic flow. The glass partition slid back to its original position, leaving the two occupants to enjoy some privacy. William sat silent, thinking. Had he met this man before? If he had, he couldn't remember it. But the man bore Adam's surname - Harrier - an unusual one, surely? There could not be too many Harriers in the phone book! He glanced at the man's profile against the streaming window. His heart lurched. He could almost be sitting beside Adam some twenty years into the future. The same tilt of the head, the same strongly chiselled boyish features. Silver touching the short, dark and expensively barbered hair at the temples. William detected the same faint aura of expensively discreet after-shave. William felt a stirring in his groin and, inwardly, silently, cursed. He did not need that, now! He turned his head away and stared out at the rain sodden street and rain sodden people going about their rain sodden lives. The man's voice broke softly into William's reverie.
"I recognised you from a photograph I have been given. You confirmed I was right when you gave me your name. You were my Cousin Adam's lover, weren't you?"
William sat still, rigid with shock, as the car slowed and halted for traffic lights. Of course. Adam had often spoken admiringly of an older cousin called 'Lou' - Sir Louis Harrier, internationally respected figure in the world of medicine. Here was William, sitting beside Cousin Lou in Cousin Lou's car!
"I know a great deal about you, Will," came that soft, silky voice. "You don't mind me using Adam's name for you?" William was too stunned to reply but slowly shook his head. "Fine. As I was about to say, Adam confided everything about his life to me, including his feelings for you. We were closer than brothers, much more than cousins usually are. He loved you very deeply, Will. Did you know that?" He paused, waiting for William to speak.
"I thought we were just good mates," William whispered.
"Oh, Adam thought more, much more, of you than that, Will. He thought so much of you he deliberately took himself out of your life so that you could make something worthwhile of it. He sacrificed his own happiness for you. He had no need or desire to go to Paris and the Sorbonne, but he saw something in you, something he knew was in danger of being stifled by his love for you." Harrier paused, his head turned away, unable to meet William's gaze. Then, slowly and quietly, he uttered the most devastating words William was ever to hear.
"Adam is dead, Will."
No. No more today, God, please! Adam dead? No. There's some mistake, this bastard's winding me up and he's trying to get me for himself. Wildly, William shouted, "You're fucking lying! I don't know what you're playing at, but it won't work. Let me out of this fucking car!"
"Quietly, Will, quietly." Harrier's calmness was unruffled by William's outburst. "Believe me, I'm not trying to abduct you, or play monstrous games with you. Adam died from injuries he received as the result of a road accident near Paris. I need you to come with me. I am in possession of a document which you need to read. Adam sent it to me from the hospital he was taken to in Paris. Ah, here we are!" The car turned into the sweeping gravel driveway leading up to a large detached three-storied house, coming to rest before an imposing frontage.
As William slowly, shakily got out of the car, he glanced up at the house. It was a grand Edwardian villa, constructed in the early years of the twentieth century in a style then popular but later derisively labelled "mock Tudor". William ascended the shallow steps, following Louis Harrier. He glanced at a brass plate fixed to the porch wall. Engraved on it were the words THE SANCTUARY and Harrier's title and name. These were followed by an impressive string of letters indicating his professional and social standing. Obviously, the man was something more than a grandiose GP and the house more than just a doctor's surgery. The two men entered a spacious lobby and William instantly felt all his tension and depression ebbing away as the warmth and soothing atmosphere enfolded him.
"Come with me, Will. Please!" Louis Harrier took his hand and led William forward as if he were a frightened, lost and lonely child.
A long time later, William emerged from The Sanctuary. He was alone. He walked slowly down the drive to the street. He wandered through the town, going anywhere, nowhere, not wishing to return to his little grey room at the student hostel. Watery evening sunlight edged the wet dismal buildings with silver. The world no longer seemed so dark. He now knew the depth of Adam's love for him. Suddenly, hot salty tears burst unbidden from his eyes, racking sobs tore through him. Emotions dammed up for too long rushed out of him. He stood in the middle of the street, unheeding, unaware of the slightly scared glances passers-by threw at him, not caring that they gave him a wide berth as they passed.
When the storm had receded, he felt stronger. Adam had given him a life, had made him financially secure. He could now pursue any calling in life he chose - or none at all. Louis was to be his mentor and guide. In return, William was to undertake to live with him and, in the fullness of time, take care of him. However, all that was far, far in the future: for now, William knew what he had to do. He must repay Adam's sacrifice with one of his own.
When Will-Adam woke next morning, cold bright winter sunlight flooded the room. Quickly, Will-Adam shaved, showered and dressed - no silly accidents today! He ran downstairs to find Mother Bitch. He was brimming with happiness: today was the real beginning of his life. He found Mother Bitch sitting at the cluttered kitchen table, as usual, smoking. He knocked politely on the open door and waited for the bitter faced harridan to turn round. He could afford to be the polite young gentleman now.
"Wha' you want?" the woman spat at him.
"Good morning, Mrs Jepson. I'm leaving you today and I've brought my rent for the room." He placed a fat white envelope on the table. The woman stared at him. "There's more than enough there to cover what I owe you," Will-Adam continued, "plus some extra for the inconvenience of not giving you due notice." He paused as the woman tore open the envelope and gaped unbelievingly at the thick wad of fifty and twenty pound notes that fell on to the table. "I had a stroke of good fortune yesterday, Mrs Jepson."
Will-Adam left the hostel and stood on the pavement outside. He noticed the two ragged layabouts from yesterday, huddled under a wall on the opposite side of the street. He picked up a canvas bag and crossed over. "Don't run," he called out to the two youths, "I'm leaving today and there are some clothes and things in there I won't be needing any more. Help yourselves." He put the bag down against the wall and returned to his position, waiting for Marcus and the limousine. He did not have to wait long. He tossed his bags into the trunk of the car and turned to the broadly smiling chauffeur.
"Marcus," said the new Adam-Will, "take me home, please!"
Laurie Page, June 2006.