WARNING: This story – a fictional one - contains sex between minors and an adult. Do not read the contents if it will offend you. If accessing this story causes you to break local laws (village, town, city, county, province, state, or country, etc.), please leave now.

 

Any characters portrayed in this story are fictional and not representative of anyone living or dead.

 

Anyone wishing to contact me can do so at jtst449@gmail.com

 

Other stories on Nifty by John Teller/The Storyteller can be found here.

 

All rights reserved. All parts of these documents are © Copyright 2012 John T. S. Teller, and may not be reproduced in any form without the author's consent. Nifty.org have permission to reproduce it on their website.

 

A small sermon. Nothing in life is free. Everything costs, and Nifty is no different, so please send them a couple of $'s/£'s to cover costs and stuff. They're very discreet, and you won't get your name in lights if you do. Donate here: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

 

 

Cornish Tales and Piskey Tails.

 

Part one.

 

Freddie Montgomery – aged 13 – says...

I've locked the door of my bedroom, something I never, ever do. But I've had to. No way do I want mum or dad to see the state I'm in as I cry into my pillows. If it was just the tears then I could probably manage, but the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach and the shaking is something I can't hide. I've been like this for two days now, ever since mum told me that Zac was coming to stay with us. I've hidden it well... I think. I've had to. They don't know. I told them lies when it happened. I said it was Zac's brother that had affected me so much. They fell for that, but they won't be so daft as to fall for it a second time if they see the state I'm in. That's why I'm hiding from them most of the time.

 

Why, Zac? Why do you have to come back now? I was managing. I was beginning to get over you. I had to. I couldn't live all my life like that! I don't want you here! Lies, Freddie Montgomery! More than anything in the world I want to be in your arms again Zac, feeling the love that flowed out of you and deep inside of me. I know you loved me. Even though I was only a little boy back then, I could tell. You didn't actually say it, but neither of us needed to. It was there all the time we were together. But what about now? You'll probably think I'm just a stupid kid who can't control his emotions, and you'll come here and then sod off again, leaving me even worse than I was before. If you do, I'll kill myself. I really will Zac! I really will! Go away! No! No! No! Please come back to me. Please!!!

 

********** ********** ********** ********** **********

 

Zachary Blair – aged 23 - says...

I look at the photo of him wearing a hoody type jumper that nestles softly on the slim, boyish neck; a wistful, reflective look on his beautiful face, and I feel butterflies in my tummy as I'm driving. He's eleven years old in the photo, and I've carried it about for two years now. What will he be like now? I'll soon know, because in a very short time I'll be seeing him for the first time in five years. Yes... a lot of water has flowed under the bridge since first we met all those years ago Freddie, but I could never forget those few wonderful days I spent with you and the emotions you created within me... emotions that are still deeply rooted within my being. You were magical, Freddie. I remember you so clearly now: a sprite; an elfin; but because we met in the land of legend that is the English county of Cornwall, maybe a better description of you would be that of a Cornish Piskey. A sexy, little Cornish Piskey. Yes, piskey, and I call you that because you were adamant that you Cornish folk never refer to them as pixies. But what do we outsiders know about how you strange folk work? You're a breed apart, and that's why I'm worried about the reception I'll get from you. Will you still be the same little boy I used to know when I first saw you sitting with your parents?

 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

 

Little Freddie Montgomery.

 

Sitting with your parents and two older sisters at the table opposite me and my own family in a small café by the rocky harbour of Trebarwith Strand in Cornwall, you're about eight years old; one of those glorious creatures who, if you're like me: gay, and attracted to people younger than myself, can break your heart with a simple, dazzling smile. Well, you do mine, and that's because not only are you a stunningly beautiful boy with puppy-dog brown, liquid eyes, but also because when God made you, he decided to adorn your shapely head with the most gorgeous locks of long, red and auburn hair that cascade in unruly tresses down to the nape of your slim neck and over your shapely forehead like a shaggy dog. Then you flick your head and send the sprawling locks back to reveal more of those sensuous eyes that touch my soul. You're irresistible, and throughout the meal I can't stop looking at you, especially when something amuses you and I hear the tinkling laughter of your sweet, childish voice.

 

It isn't only me who thinks this way. Mother, who's sitting on my right, looks at you when you're laughing, and says, "What a beautiful child!"

 

I pretend that I'm indifferent, and just grin, but my twelve year old brother - sitting opposite me - turns and looks at you. And so does my father, and when he turns back to our table, he's wearing a big grin when he chuckles, "He looks a right bundle of fun."

 

**********

 

A right bundle of fun. Yes, that's exactly what Freddie Montgomery turned out to be. But I didn't know it then on that hot July day while we were eating our meal when I'd just turned eighteen and was taking the last holiday of my life as a family group. In September I was off to University, and I didn't know at the time that it would be five years before I would again visit this beautiful place. As I was to discover later during the holiday, the Montgomery family were Cornish born and bred with a lovely lilt of the Cornish accent that elongates the vowels and prolongs the R's, and adds symmetry to their language, which is almost poetic.

 

During the meal I swapped eye contact with Freddie Montgomery frequently, and after the first couple of times I began to think our visual exchanges were mutual, and that there was the recognition from him that we were more than just two people in the same café. At first his glances were curiosity, and then it changed to naughtiness, almost as if he were flirting with me. His behaviour changed too, becoming extrovert and exaggerated to draw attention to himself as he was eating and talking, and by the time the Montgomery family had eaten their meal and were on their way out of the café, my own family were tickled pink by his behaviour. I wasn't. I was feeling sick at heart that the small boy was leaving me and that I may never see him again, especially when he turned in the doorway, and with a worried look on his face, stared right into my eyes. When he'd gone, I felt quite ill. Why? Because this little boy had done something to me that was almost unbelievable. The shock to my system of falling hopelessly and passionately in love with a little boy after just a few moments spent in the same room as him rocked me to my very core, and when he left, not only was my stomach churning over with worry, but my heart was a right mess... actually missing beats I think. This was crazy, but it was also real, and to be absolutely honest, I didn't like the feelings I was getting one bit. The pangs of love can be cruel and bitter in certain circumstances, and when that certain someone who you've fallen head over heels in love with walks out of your life, maybe forever, it's enough to make you ill. Very ill!  

 

After we'd eaten, my family and I strolled down to the rock-strewn beach to find a place to lie in the sun or swim in the surf. It was packed just after lunch, and because we'd caught the tide on the perfect ebb - the rollers were over a hundred metres out - it meant that we had almost until early evening before we would have to pack up and retreat from the fast-running sea that came right up to the small hive of shops that edged the entrance to the bay. I think we found the only vacant spot left; a ledge high on the rocks on the right hand side of the bay, and we scrambled up quickly to stake our claim. Normally, it wouldn't have been the ideal place, but being high up, it was perfect for me. If the little boy was here (which I desperately hoped he would be), then this was a splendid vantage point to spot him. It was James, my brother, who spotted him first. When we'd stripped to our swimming costumes, he pointed, and said, "There's that silly little boy!"

 

My eyes followed where he was pointing, and sitting on a rock with his mother, about twenty metres away, and looking forlorn with his back arched and his head down, dressed only in a skimpy pair of bathing trunks, was my beau. My heart did a song and dance when I saw him, but the little boy wasn't happy. I could see his profile, and I could tell he was in a deep sulk with pouting lips and his chin on his chest. Just for a moment I thought it might be because he was thinking about me, but I dismissed that thought as quickly as it came into my head. It was stupid to think that a small boy could be attracted to someone as old as me so much that he would feel sad after such a brief encounter. His father wasn't helping. I noticed during the meal that he'd had more than his fill of beer, and he was now flat out on a beach towel, soaking up the sun, probably asleep. The older sister, aged about fifteen, was lying beside him, clad in a scant bikini. She was stunningly beautiful too, with a lovely figure and breasts that were filling nicely. In fact, because she was the sister of the little boy I'd fallen in love with, there was a stirring in my loins when I considered that she was probably a grown-up female version of what my little boy would look like when he was her age. Without the breasts, of course! The other sister, aged about twelve, was kneeling on the sand, digging holes with a spade, and calling up to her brother to join her. His mother was goading him to join his sister, but he was ignoring her pleas.

 

Mum and dad stripped for sun-bathing, so I said to James, "Are you coming in the sea with me?"

 

He grinned. "Race you to it!"

 

He'd gone down the rocks before I was ready, and I yelled to him (much louder than was necessary to try and get the little boy's attention), "Cheat! Wait for me!"

 

The little boy lifted his head and looked directly at me. The sulks disappeared immediately, and a wide grin came across his face. And that was the exact moment when I was sure the little boy also had feelings for me. Elated at my discovery, I grinned back at him, and then scrambled down the rocks and raced across the sands to join my brother, who, by now, was diving through the surf.

 

Even in the heat of summer, the cold of the North Atlantic was biting, sending shock waves through my hot body, but I fought the desire to retreat, and began to swim out to sea. I was a strong swimmer, far stronger than James who would only venture a few metres out before returning to the beach to once again dive through the rollers and swim a few metres out. I'd gone past the rollers and was in open sea, and could tread water and look back. I was looking for my little boy, but looking from sea-level and through the crowd of holidaymakers, I realised that it was an impossible task trying to find him, so I began to swim crossways across the bay, which gave me time to think.

 

I was in an impractical situation; an eighteen year old gay boy who had fallen instantly in love with a beautiful boy of about eight. I'd had crushes on lots of boys, but they were all much older than the little man who had entered my heart this time; usually about twelve or thirteen or fourteen. Because he was so young, apart from the fact that he was an actual boy, sexual feelings were almost absent, so even though I knew he was a miniature of the kind of creature who usually drove me to distraction with thoughts of sexual liaisons with them, that didn't bother me. He was too young for that. Just thinking that this little man was attracted to me was emotionally pleasing. Reality was a different ball game though, and even though I thought it was impossible for him to share my feelings, there was absolutely nothing wrong with befriending him. But how? We were on the same beach, maybe for the only time in our lives, so it was going to be very difficult within the confines of our families.

 

It was while I was mooting these things in my mind that my prayers were answered. I decided to swim back to the beach, and when I'd got through the rollers, standing there at the edge of the sea was the little boy, holding his mother's hand. But that's not all I saw. By their side was James, holding out a hand to the little boy as if goading him into the water. So I decided to play it by ear and swam towards them until I could wade to the shore.

 

The sun was shining directly onto the little boy's hair, giving it the impression that it was a variety of colours from gold to deep red to chestnut brown, and when he lifted his head to look at me, he squinted and held a hand over his eyes, and because his arm stretched his body, I noticed how slim and slight he really was. I could have wept at his beauty, and I became even more infatuated by him. The tiny red speedos he was wearing were the only blemish on this beautiful, bronzed, elfin child, but they added that touch of mystery; that unspoken thought of the beauty of his complete nakedness that lay hidden, teasing the gay person within me.

 

Freddie grinned when he saw me, and I grinned back as I walked towards him. I smiled at his mother, and asked, "Is he afraid of the water?"

 

She smiled back. "Not really. I just don't want to let Freddie go too far into the sea. It's quite rough out there."

 

I looked at the rollers, and then back at her. "I'm a strong swimmer. He'll be fine with me. Would you like me to take him in? I won't take him far. Just in as far as the rollers to let him enjoy the water splashing over him. But it's cold!"

 

Freddie looked up pleadingly into his mother's face, tried to release her hand, and yelled, "I'll be fine with this man, mummy. Pleeeease!"

 

I grinned at her, held out a hand, and waited for her to make a decision. I saw her weighing up the situation, and then she put little Freddie's hand in mine before saying sternly to him, "Make sure you behave yourself. I'll stay here and watch you for a while."

 

James took Freddie's other hand, and together we walked the small boy into the water. He squealed when a roller washed against his upper legs. I looked back and saw his mum laughing. We pulled him a little deeper into the sea, and when another roller washed over his warm body and splashed his chest, he screamed at the top of his voice and danced on his toes, trying to throw himself as high as he could. Now we were all laughing as he desperately tried every which way to get out of the cold. So I leaned down and lifted him up into my arms. He was as light as a feather as I held him tightly while he squealed and shivered. When I looked back, I saw the nod of confidence his mother gave me, so I winked at her to reassure her that her boy was in safe hands. His little arms were clamped around my shoulders, and I could feel the wonderful warmth of his gorgeous little body as he clung to me. Then I turned, waded back to the shore, and set him on his feet right by his mother. Still laughing, she said, "The young man told you it was cold!"

 

James, grinning, said to the little boy, "Why don't you come with me. We'll just splash our way along the shore and you can get used to it then." And off they went, running through the waves that were dying a death on the sun-soaked sand, hand in hand, laughing and really enjoying themselves.

 

I turned to his mother, and said, "I think James has found himself a friend to play with. They'll be fine. I'll stay here and keep an eye on them."

 

She looked almost apologetically at me. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose on you."

 

I shook my head. "It's no problem. I have to keep an eye on James. He can swim, but not well enough that mum and dad trust him on his own in these rollers. They'll be perfectly safe with me. If you go back to where you were, you'll be able to keep an eye on us all, and then you'll be fine. I'll bring him back to you shortly. He won't last long in these cold waters. Get the towel ready... he'll be shaking like a leaf and his teeth won't stop chattering."

 

She laughed. "Yes, I know. Normally his dad takes him into the sea, but he had a beer too many and has gone to sleep."

 

Still watching James and Freddie, she walked away, and I sat on the sand with my arms behind me propping me up, watching both boys enjoying themselves. Freddie saw me, and waved. I waved back. Then they both sped through the water, and I laughed as the spray kicked up by their feet splashed all over them. When they reached me, they stopped, both grinning like the beautiful children they were, and like James, Freddie's wet hair was now plastered down the sides of his head and over his eyes. He flicked his head again, and with water droplets glinting in the sun, it sent the few strands of wet hair back to reveal his forehead, and his beautiful eyes. I stared into them; he stared into mine, and then he held out a hand. I got up, lifted him from his feet, supported him with my arm under his cute, small bum, his legs automatically wrapped around my waist, and I felt him melt into my warmth. Then I asked him, "Would you like to go into the water again?"

 

He lifted his head from my shoulders, looked into my eyes, and with an inquisitive look on his cute face, he asked, "What's your name?"

 

"I'm Zac Blair, and this is my little bro, James. What's your name young man?"

 

Still looking into my eyes, he said, "I'm Freddie. Freddie Montgomery, and I'm eight years old. How old are you?"

 

"I'm eighteen, and James is twelve. Would you like to go back in the water?"

 

"Yes," he replied, "but don't let go of me!"

 

I laughed. "I won't." I turned to my brother. "Come on James, let's give Freddie Montgomery some fun."

 

We spent a further fifteen minutes gamboling in the surf, and when I saw that Freddie was cold and his lips had a hint of blue in them, I suggested we all go back to our parents. It was James who led the way, racing Freddie across the sands, leaving me to stroll through the milling crowds to join them.

 

That was the beginning of a wonderful afternoon. Because we youngsters had become friends, our parents also made friends, and after a short while they moved things so we could all be together. But it was all becoming complicated. Roxanne, the oldest daughter, fancied me. I could tell, because she kept giving me the eye and began acting more grown-up. I didn't reject her advances. I could use the familiarity to get closer to Freddie. As two family groups, it wouldn't look wrong if I pretended I was attracted to Roxanne while really I was fascinated with her little brother. But there were two more complications that popped up. I'm not boasting when I say that my family are all good-looking, and mum is really attractive. James and I take after our dad in build and looks; we're both handsome and have good bodies, are quite tall (I was six foot at the time, and James was growing into puberty), and we have no problems keeping trim. The one thing we do get from mum is our hazel eyes, and hers are positively beautiful. And we both have dark hair, but that could be from either mum or dad. The second complication was that the Montgomery youngest daughter, Rose, also fancied James. The third complication - and I found great amusement and not jealousy in that – was that I knew James had a crush on young Freddie, too.

 

Oh this tangled web we weave, when we practice to deceive. And that's what happened on that glorious afternoon in the sea and sun at Trebarwith Strand. But it was a beautiful afternoon, and the highlights to me were that I got to have loads of contact and fun with Freddie. So did James, and I made sure I didn't spoil his fun. After all, because of the differences in our ages, I was wise enough to understand that nothing could come of the situation, so why not share `our Freddie'? And then the tide turned and the sea came rushing in. It was time to go; time for us to part; Freddie and his family back to their home at Camelford - just six miles away - and us to the cottage we were renting at Treknow, which is not far from Trebarwith Strand. The day we met was Wednesday, and our parents arranged to meet again at Trebarwith on Friday, the last full day before we returned to our home in Bristol on Saturday morning. Little, gregarious Freddie had become our best pal by the time we packed up and left, and both James and I had hugs and a kiss on the cheek before we parted.

 

**********

 

The time we spent between meetings was full of fun and innuendo. All James could talk about was Freddie, and I became the brunt of marriage jokes with Roxanne. I turned the tables on James by suggesting that Rose had never taken her eyes off him and that I'd get him a date when next we met. Of course, that was met by growls that he'd rather play football than be seen dead with a girl. Dad laughed and said he didn't know what he was missing, and mum just smiled and said nothing. And all the time this was going on, all I could really think about was the little boy who had stolen my heart, and I was as excited as James when Friday came. But, unlike him, I didn't dare show it.

 

**********

 

Friday. 10 am. We were to meet early because the tide was about an hour away from its furthest point out, which gave us about five hours before we would have to leave the beach. Because we were nearest, we arrived first to get a good place. Again it was a glorious, hot, sunny day, and we had to apply lots of sun-cream to stop ourselves burning in the heat. James appointed himself as look-out, the one who would greet the Montgomery family and lead them to the spot we'd chosen. While he was doing that, dad and I went for a swim in the sea. Like me, dad's a powerful swimmer, and we spent twenty minutes in the water before heading back to our spot. Our arrival coincided with James leading Freddie by the hand to the place our family had chosen, closely followed by his family.

 

Dressed in a blue, floppy sun hat, and wearing a blue tee-shirt and long blue shorts that went below his knees, he looked as cute as a pearl button, and my heart melted when I saw him. I wanted to pick him up and hug him, and that's exactly what happened when he saw me. Once James had released his hand, he came running to me and flew into my arms. I gave him lots of hugs and cuddles and tickles before casting him away from me after he complained that I was cold from having just come out of the sea. Everybody laughed, and I reckoned I'd carried that bit of affection off very well, and without bringing attention to my real feelings for him.

 

Once the Montgomery family had settled, Freddie was divested of his clothes, and again I was struck by his beauty. His speedos were blue ones this time, but just as skimpy as the ones he wore before. And then I became jealous. It was his mother who applied sun-cream to every square inch of his body that was available to the sun, even dipping her fingers under the hem of his speedos to make sure he was covered completely. I pretended I wasn't looking, but I missed nothing as his mum massaged the sun cream into the soft, pliable flesh of the little sprite. Then James took hold of his hand, and said, "Shall we go and run through the surf?"

 

Freddie took the hand, looked at me, and asked, "Are you coming, Zac?

 

I wanted to. Nothing would have given me greater pleasure, but again self-preservation of not revealing my true feelings prevailed. Not only that; giving James some space to be with `his boy' was the reason I replied, "No. You two go and enjoy yourselves, and I'll join you in a while when you've got used to the cold sea. Then I'll come and give you a good dipping." I added in a stern voice, "Just stay this side of the rollers or you'll both be in trouble!"

 

For just a moment, Freddie's face puckered with disappointment, and then he turned and ran off with James towards the sea. When they'd gone, Freddie's mother, Ann, said, "He hasn't stopped talking about you two since we parted." Then she laughed. "He said he wished you were all brothers, and that having two sisters was damaging to his street cred."

 

Of course, that had us all in stitches, and I helped Freddie out by saying, "I don't blame him. Women are a pain in the butt when he's his age."

 

Dad laughed. "And what about when you get to your age?"

 

I knew what he meant. He was referring to me being the brunt of the `marriage' jokes I'd endured about Roxanne. I grinned at him, and said, "I'm off to Uni soon, so I'll have no time for women if you have your way and I have to achieve a first in Economics."

 

Roxanne asked, "What do you do with Economics?"

 

I gave her my best smile. "Dad's an accountant, and he wants me to follow in his footsteps." I grinned at mum. "He bosses me about, doesn't he mum?"

 

Mum smiled at me. "He bosses us all about. But he's right on this one. You're brilliant at calculations. You take after him."

 

I shrugged my shoulders. "So that's my life gone as a boring accountant."

 

It was Ted (Mr Montgomery, who was the manager of a supermarket in Bodmin) who joined in then. "Being an accountant is a good job, Zac. You'll never be out of work, and that's something to be pleased about in this day and age. Good luck to you, I say."

 

I nodded at him. "I know. But when I've finished University, I'm going to do the South American tour before I get bogged down with work and have a family." Just as I'd said that, I looked up and saw James and Freddie dashing across the sand to us. I grinned, and said, "Here come my two brothers."

 

Freddie's face was alight with joy, and he yelled, "Come on you lot. It's brilliant, and the sea isn't as cold as it was before." And that was the prelude to another wonderful day with the boy I'd fallen in love with.

 

**********

 

Three hours later we all sat having dinner at a large, circular table outside the same restaurant where I'd first seen Freddie. My little Freddie was sat between me and James, and to my right was Roxanne. I hadn't planned it like that; it had just happened. Well, these things never just happen, do they? Both Freddie and Roxanne had made sure that was the seating arrangements when we came to the table. Rose hadn't been left out of the planning: she was seated next to James. That had me giggling inwardly, because I knew that even though she fancied him, he had no interest in her. All James was interested in was the same little boy I was: Freddie Montgomery. Again I had to pretend a lack of interest in the little man, but never once did our legs not touch under the table, and I reckon the same could be said of James and Freddie's other leg. It was a very unusual ménage-á-trois, but a delightful one, nevertheless.

 

The dinner was fun; lots of laughter and bonhomie. Our two families really had gelled, and I was also enjoying the company of Roxanne. No, I wasn't sexually attracted to her, but she was a lovely girl, and we spent a lot of time talking about her aspirations. I encouraged her to work hard at her schooling, and then go to Uni. She was good at drama, and wanted to be a teacher in a progressive school that took The Arts seriously. I liked that, and the more we talked, the more I liked her. I even told her that Bristol University, where I was going to, was well known for its arts curriculum, and that she might consider going there when she finished college.

 

And so it went on, us all enjoying our meals and conversation; me chatting to Roxanne whilst enjoying the warmth of Freddie's leg pressed against mine as we exchanged occasional longer-than-permissible looks into each other's eyes. Our parents were also getting on great together, and it seemed to be Rose who was the odd one out. But that changed when I looked around the two boys and asked her what she wanted to be later in life.

 

She shrugged her shoulders, looked me right in the eyes, and matter-of-factly, said, "I'm not sure exactly what education I'll take, but I'm going to be an athlete until I'm too old to be one."

 

The dynamics of the meeting of our two families changed when she said that. James stopped eating and looked at her in disbelief; her mum and dad grinned, and our mother and father looked questioningly at her. It was Freddie who broke the moment when, with pride bursting from his small frame, he said, "Rose is a brilliant runner. The best round here by a long way." He looked at his sister. "Aren't you, Rose?"

 

Rose blushed. "I'm not that good."

 

It was Roxanne who said proudly, "Yes you are!"

 

James interrupted. "Rose Montgomery! You were at Taunton last month in the South-Western Schools County Championships!"

 

Rose stared at him. "How do you know that?"

 

James grinned. "Because I was there too! I was running for Bristol in the 400 metres under-thirteens, and you won the same race for the girls. But I only came fourth."

 

Rose beamed. "Fancy that! We were at the same place and we didn't know each other!"

 

**********

 

As I said, that's when the dynamics of our families changed, and during the rest of the day, James and Rose formed a bond that wouldn't last; our parents formed a bond that would last, but waned into acquaintanceship as time went by - as most holiday friendships do; James and Freddie formed a bond that wouldn't last; I formed a bond with Roxanne that would last as a friendship only; and I also fell deeper in love with Freddie... a love that would smoulder in abstentia, and I didn't know then that it would be five long years before my involvement with Freddie would happen again - when he was thirteen years old, and my love for him would erupt like a volcano for a second time. So, for now, I'll tell you that we had a wonderful day; we parted with an acknowledgement that we would all keep in touch; there were tears from James and Freddie; and I had a special, long, hugging, tearful kiss directly on my lips from my little beau before he was forced from my arms and taken reluctantly away.

 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

 

Back to the future.

 

Although there have been some road improvements since last I was in Cornwall, I remember some of the places as I pass through them in my small car. When I turn off the A30 and onto the minor roads that lead to Camelford, deep and melancholy memories come flooding back to me, not least the feelings of utter misery when we drove home after our last family holiday down here when I parted from the beautiful small boy who had become a part of me. He still is. Always has been, and even if he's forgotten me by now, nothing will change the way I feel about him. Despite the intervening years since I last saw him in the flesh, I still love Freddie Montgomery.

 

When I get to Camelford, I follow the directions to the Montgomery house, an unostentatious terraced cottage in a small side street with a patch of green across the other side of the road that looks like a sort of playing field. There are no garages, and cars have to park in the road. I find number 27, park as near as I can to it, get out, and look around. It's quiet here, and the silence sort of gets to me, maybe because this place will have echoed to the sound of Freddie's laughter and playing while he was growing up. I've tried many times to imagine what this place would be like, and now I know, I feel sort of sick inside that I've missed so much of what Freddie was. I also feel something else... like an intruder trespassing where I'm not wanted. Yes, I might be desperate to meet Freddie again, but all I am is a person that he would have completely forgotten had it not been that our two families have kept up an acquaintance of sorts. Then it hits me what a stupid idiot I am. I've come all the way down here to see if a boy who was eight years old when we met, still has feelings for me. How utterly ridiculous! But there is one positive thing; once I've determined that Freddie now has no special feelings for me, then at least I can get on with my life instead of pining for something that never could be. I look at my watch. Just turned two o'clock. Then I look at the cottage. Was that a movement of the curtains from one of the bedroom windows? Probably not. Through the small gate and into the tiny front garden; knock on the door, and I feel nervous as hell while I wait for someone to answer.

 

********** *********** ********** *********** ***********

 

Freddie Montgomery says...

He's here! Oh my God! I'd almost forgotten what he really looks like. Although he's a big man, he's not quite as big as I imagined he'd be, but then I realise that the visions I've kept of Zac are those I remember through a child's eyes. I've seen photographs of him since last we met, but photos don't really give a proper sense of proportion. Here, from my bedroom window, he looks older than I remember him, too. Well, he should. It was five years ago! He's twenty three now, ten years older than me.

 

He has changed. His hair was short when we first met, but now it's longer. Not really long like mine, but long enough for him to have styled it so it looks wavy. It's still the same colour; almost black, and it contrasts well with the white, polo neck, short sleeved tee-shirt he's wearing that hangs loosely over his blue jeans. It looks as if he's been in the sun, because he has a nice tan, especially the full biceps and his well-muscled forearms. Yes, he is well built, which is how I remember him. I remember those strong arms especially. They were the ones that held me all those years ago. Those arms have been part of my special memories of Zac, and that tanned neck that I buried my head into to try and become part of him. Tan trainers. Cool! He knows how to dress well.

 

I expected him to get out of the car, get his stuff, and come straight to the house, but he's not. He's looking around. I step away from the curtains when he looks at our house, but I can still see him. He's looking up. Oh, my God! He's gorgeous! He might be older, but he's still the most handsome man I've ever seen, and I realise now why he's affected me like he has. They're still there... the feelings. I'd hoped they wouldn't be, but they are. But Zac won't know. He can't possibly realise how much I loved him. He can't possibly know how much I still love him.

 

He's coming to the house, through the gate. He knocks on the door and I almost faint with fear. I'm frightened. Truly frightened of what's happening to me. Memories come flooding back to me of how I felt when we parted all those years ago; the sickness I felt; the deep despair that almost drove me to suicide, and I'm filled with a deep dread that this time when he leaves, I might actually go and do it.    

 

To be continued...   

 

You can find my other stories on Nifty here. If you wish to comment on this or any of my other stories, just drop me a line to jtst449@gmail.com Genuine comments will be appreciated. All flames will be extinguished in the trash bin.