“I grabbed it!” Hal admitted.
“Well, you took a bloody risk. And he was a Sergeant – your superior Officer! You could have been court-martialled! Thrown out, or reduced to the ranks! I take it you haven’t been?”
Hal shook his head. “Nope. Nor I don’t expect to be.”
“Why?”
“Because Angus – that’s his name – said he wouldn’t report me, and he won’t. He really wanted it! For starters, the way he was sitting: men who wear kilts know how to sit, and how not to sit, so as not to show anything. He was sitting right opposite me and his knees were wide apart; I could see his massive thighs, his dark crotch-hair and his cock. That rugby physique combined with that fucking-beautiful boyish handsome face were magic! Phwoarrr! I wanted him; and he really wanted me too, but he didn’t want to show what he wanted; he wanted me to make a pass…. And to give him the chance to fight me off if he found he couldn’t face it after all.”
“How d’you know all that?”
“I kind of guessed it at the time, but afterwards he told me straight. I couldn’t believe it. Here was this really good-looking guy, maybe twenty-five; could have had anybody he liked; strong like Charles Atlas; a fucking Sergeant for fuck’s sake, and he didn’t know what to do. Of course he’d ploughed a few girls; his men thought he was a great guy, a man’s man; he’d scored tries at rugby; could drink a yard of ale without batting an eyelid, and set a great example. But he was really one of us. He hated it, yet he wanted it…”
“Poor blighter,” said Jim. “He must’ve been really screwed-up. Hadn’t he ever…?”
“Only a few times. But he’d sometimes chickened out at the last moment. Couldn’t bring himself to. Too frightened. Incredible. You’d not think a bloke like him’d be frightened of anything!” Hal shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands in disbelief.
“So, he was screwed up. Men like that can be dangerous.” Jim was not reassured.
“Not physically; not if you’re good with your fists. Anyway, we had a fight, there in his office. We were well-matched. Started punching, then wrestling. And as we got tangled up together, I thought: ‘Hullo, what’s this?’ I could feel this terrific warmth coming from him. And his cock was rigid. Finally we were exhausted. Pouring with sweat, shirts soaked. Staring at each other. Then I went down on him.”
“Went down? You mean, sucked his cock?”
“Yep. And shoved a finger up his ass at the same time. He almost fainted.”
Jim had been fellated and fingered by Hal. He knew exactly how Angus the Sergeant must have felt. (Phwoarrr… indeed)
“So you ended up fucking?”
“Yup; Later I showed him the ropes properly, in a remote part of the Luneberg Heath! I ended up bending him over the bonnet of his Land Rover and fucking him stupid!”
It was hard to feel angry for long with Hal, who was grinning his easy, innocent grin. For him, sex was a lark. It was separate from friendship or love: Great, if you could have all three at once, of course!
“And that was all?”
“Nah! He wanted another go. So, the next time we did it properly, in a hotel in Hannover. We drove up there in civvies and spent the night; nobody slept that night! He looked great, naked!”
“So do you, you bastard!”
“So… how about it?” Hal’s grin was getting wider. “And while we’re on the subject, who did you fuck with while I was away?”
“Get your kit off. I’ll tell you later!”
“Nah! I want to know now!” Hal grabbed a handful of Jim’s shirt and pulled him close to himself. Their faces were now touching.
“Oh all right.” And Jim told Hal about Edmund Carter’s unexpected visit. He mentioned that he’d had a crush on him at school, years before, after seeing him diving while wearing a pale blue Speedo. What he hadn’t known was that the feeling had been mutual. But they had not been ‘old friends’.
“So how did he get in here?” Jim wanted to know.
“I don’t know, but I can guess. After he finished school, he joined the Army. I forget which Regiment or Corps. Then he joined the SAS, where he seems to have come up against Richard Finch. On that subject, Richard has told me that they were not particularly friendly, so Edmund misled me slightly about that. You learn all kinds of strange skills in the SAS. Then Edmund left the Army to become ‘a civil servant’. He’s supposed to be something in the Home Office. But he really works for one of the Agencies; he’s a spook. He probably has expertise in electronic security systems. Anyway he got in here and ambushed me at the Quarry Pool. Then he invited me to dinner. One thing led to another and he stayed the night.”
“Cheeky bugger!”
“Yes, he is; and I rather think he might come back. Whatever he wants to involve me in, I don’t think I’ll like it or want it.”
“Well then, tell him to fuck off. Or I will, if you like! Now, let’s get friendly!”
They kissed. Hal began unbuttoning Jim’s shirt and slid his hand inside, tweaking Jim’s nipples. Off came the shirt.
“I’ve missed you!” said Hal, his voice slightly husky.
“Well yes, but meanwhile you’ve had Angus!”
“Yeah, I know. But you’re something else – special; I’m not bullshitting - and you don’t give a bloke a black eye!” (This was the closest that Hal had yet got to saying “I love you!”)
Jim laughed. “I could, but I won’t. And maybe you did that Angus a good turn. Pushed him into the water, like one of those timid boys who can’t screw up their courage to dive in and faff around on the end of the diving board.”
Hal was now kneeling in front of Jim, unlacing his trainers. Gently he removed them, and his socks.
“Nah then!” He unzipped Jim’s jeans. He slid his hand inside. Jim was going commando. Pushing down the jeans, he grabbed his quarry and started to suck it. “Wow, wow, wow!!” Jim soon got hard.
Minutes later, they were naked and in a soixante-neuf. Then a flip-fuck. A moonlit swim followed; later they fell sleepily into Jim’s big double-bed. A few hours after that, they were at it again. They had a good appetite for breakfast the following morning. Jim produced sausages, bacon, eggs and tomatoes with plenty of black coffee. There were almost no leftovers for the birds.
Hal wasn’t on duty the next day – it was a Friday – but Jim had to drive into Clumpthorpe to chair an antiques auction. He had bought a partnership in one of Clumpthorpe’s two auction houses. In Jim’s absence Hal was happy to keep an eye on Little Kansas and show round a party from London who were interested in some of Jim’s stuffed animals and birds. In the event they bought the lot, including Jim’s leucistic male White-Tailed Sea Eagle, so Jim would be better-off by several thousand Pounds when he got home. Hal smirked with satisfaction. He would not miss the stuffed creatures, which he had found slightly ‘spooky’. They reminded him of Norman Bates’s motel in Psycho, and other horror and murder films. Why did taxidermy feature so often in such films?
Five o’clock came. Still no sign of Jim. Hal put the main phone onto the call recording service, left a note for Jim (“Gone swimming. How about supper at the Pub? My shot!”), and jogged off with a towel over his shoulder, towards the Quarry Pond.
Arrived there, he stripped. Enjoying the balmy evening air, he postponed his dip. Sometimes a pleasure postponed is a pleasure doubled. To keep the midges at bay, he lit a cigarette. Fish were rising to the fly. An electric-blue kingfisher flashed across the surface of the water. Suddenly Hal jumped. Someone was caressing his elbow. It was an arrogantly handsome, fair-haired man in a pale blue Speedo. Blue eyes and dark eyebrows. Hal recognised him from Jim’s description. It was Edmund Carter, as large as life, and once again uninvited. He was smiling sardonically.
“You aren’t much use as a sentry, are you!” mocked Edmund.
Hal was irritated, as Edmund had doubtless intended him to be: “And you’re trespassing. I know who you are: Wossname Carter, the Captain of Cricket. Well, Jim’s not here. He’ll be back later but we’re going out. You’ll have to call back some other time.”
“Not very polite, are you?” smiled Edmund, head on one side.
“Nor are you. And as I said, you’re trespassing!”
Edmund didn’t answer. He looked Hal up and down. The look said, “I wouldn’t mind fucking you!” Hal wasn’t amused.
“Go on, leave now!” snarled Hal.
“You can’t order me about! And remember, I’m your superior officer!”
“Ex-officer,” replied Hall. “You’ve lost your perks, Chum, now you’re in civvy street!”
“And you’re what? A Corporal? Am I supposed to be impressed by that?”
There was a moment’s silence.
“This is a nice place,” Edmund continued, glancing around. “I reckon it suits you really well; a bolt-hole near enough, but not too near, to your barracks, where you can get away on leave or at weekends; swimming; fishing; no accommodation costs; no-one knows about it, which is just as well, because you've got a handsome boyfriend here. He’s even bought you a car! Aren’t you the lucky little hanger-on! Well, enjoy it while it lasts.”
Hal, who was a recently-promoted Corporal and rather proud of the fact, had had about enough. He swung round and punched Edmund in the face. Edmund swore under his breath. He moved in to the attack.
Hal had to do some quick thinking. He hadn’t been very clever. He was naked and unprotected. Edmund, being ex-SAS, would probably know some very nasty unarmed combat moves. His build and quick movements suggested that he was, or had been, a boxer; so had been Hal. What Edmund was not was a wrestler. The British Army didn’t do wrestling, did it?
So let’s change the game!
After trading a few blows, Edmund aimed a high-kick at Hal. Had it hit its mark, Hal would have taken it either in his stomach or his crotch. However the kick never landed.
Using a wrestling move, Hal grabbed Edmund’s leg; caught him off-balance; threw him on the ground and then threw himself on top of the ex-officer. He now began to throttle him. Edmund’s furious struggles weakened; he blacked out. Hal knelt astride him, polished with sweat.
I could drown him in the pool, he thought. Then: Maybe not such a good idea; Jim wouldn’t like that.
Edmund’s blue Speedo trunks annoyed Hal. He had obviously put them on to remind Jim once more - if a reminder were necessary – that he had fancied him at school. And vice-versa. He now pulled them off. As he did so, he noticed that Edmund had, like Jim, no tan-line; he was bronzed all over. Nice!
A fuckable ass, thought Hal. Serve him right if I…. Then he turned to practical matters. Edmund would come round in a minute and he’d be fucking furious. So tie him up before he recovered. Jim quickly searched Edmund’s clothes, which were neatly folded in a pile nearby. He was in luck. Edmund had come with the intention of dining out, presumably a deux, with Jim. We’ll see about that! A silk neck-tie, with bright diagonal stripes of salmon-pink and puke-yellow, was on top of the pile. Jim did not know it, but this garish neckwear showed that Edmund belonged to the Marylebone Cricket Club. That would tie his hands. Not only that, but a similar, older tie was threaded through the belt-loops of his flannel trousers, used as a belt. Before long, Edmund was hog-tied with his own ties. This is becoming a habit, Hal thought, remembering the burglar whom he and Jim had tied up, not so long ago.
