Date: Fri, 01 Aug 2003 20:47:18 +0100
From: Angela Mynah <angela_mynah@msn.com>
Subject: The Gambler

The Gambler

A short story by Angela Mynah

Angela_mynah@msn.com

This story refers to cross generational sex of a homosexual nature.
If this story is illegal in your area or you are offended by such stories,
leave now.
This story is fictional. My father cannot even play 'Snap'

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE GAMBLER.

     I Looked. I knew only a little about poker, but I looked. My father
started shaking, I could see it and I am sure to this day, that the men he
was playing against could see it. He had changed no cards and the hand he
had been dealt with looked mighty pretty to me. I looked.

     These card games had moved from house to house. It was a tight circle
of hard gamblers. They enjoyed the games almost as much as the delight of
winning. Winning was the first objective, but playing the game was a close
second. I had no idea how deep my father was in debt to these men. He loved
the game but was far from a good player. I looked at his hand.

     There are some poker hands that are so nice that you just want to take
a picture of them so they last forever. Dad looked at his hand and drooled.

     "One hundred pounds"

     "You don't have one hundred pounds Jack. What will you put in as
security for what you already owe?"

     "What security do you want Eric? I will get it"

     "The boy will do, Winners property till you square the debt. No
interest."

     There was a hush round the table. Clive was the one to break the
silence.

     "What the hell do we want to win the boy for? He's only ten years old,
we can't exactly work him. What can we do with him?"

     "A ten year old boy is pretty desirable in certain circles, he can make
a guy a lot of cash, if you know how."

     Dad stayed silent, it was Charlie who cut in next.

     "What? You mean for sex and that sort of thing? You're some sick
bastard Eric. Are you telling me you want the boy for sex?"

     "No Charlie, I don't want him but I know there are guys who will pay,
and pay well for an hour with the kid."

     "Sorry Eric, I don't think I can go along with this. It's sick"

     "You don't have to go along with this, and if Jack's hand is as good as
he is saying, then nobody will lose. He wins the hand and clears his debts.
Its "happy days" again for Jack. If he loses, then he loses his boy. I am
doing the man a favour. He obviously thinks he is invincible. Its your call
Jack."

     My dad scribbled out a quick note, signed it and cut the argument
short.

     "One hundred pounds added to my debt and Patrick till I clear what I
owe"

     Dad knew what he was doing. I could always rely on Dad. I looked at his
hand again as he hugged me slightly to him. I understood little about poker
as a game but I looked at his hand. Six, seven, eight, nine and ten all in
hearts. It looked pretty enough to me.

     "Well, that's my call" he said.

     "I stack" Eric replied

     Eric grinned as he tossed his cards face down into the centre. He had
never had any intention of playing for the boy, he just wanted to let his
friend Bob off the growing debt.

     "Yup, me too"  Charlie laughed as he threw his hand in.

     They all looked at Clive. He was not smiling. He was in an impossible
situation. He was a keen card player. He loved the game. There was no way he
was going to stack. It was the hand of a lifetime. He had been dealt with
all four aces and the king of spades. The hand was a winner in any game he
would ever find. There was another complication as far as Clive was
concerned, He was a boy lover, a paedophile, in fact, even in his own eyes,
he thought himself something of a pervert.

     He put the substantial amount of money in front of him down and uttered
the terrifying words...

    "I will see you"

     It went dead quiet, but as Dad put his hand down smiles went all round.

     "Nice one Jack, Well Clive, what can you follow that with?"

     Clive was still wondering what to do. If he stacked, my dad would be
out of debt and his secret would be safe. However, He thought that I was a
boy who was so pretty, no not pretty, beautiful, that it was impossible for
a boy lover like himself not to lust after me. He so wanted to have a sexual
relationship with a boy, any boy would do, but he had fantasized about me
often. He was about to stack when he looked straight into my eyes. It was
more than he could take.

     "Sorry Jack, I've got four bullets"

     Four of anything would have been enough, but there is something about
four aces. Dad looked at the cards, there was horror written across his
face. Silence once again reigned in that room till everyone heard dad
quietly say to me,

     "You had better go and sit on Uncle Clive's lap now."

    Nobody really felt like playing any more. Eric looked at Charlie and
said that Clive and Dad would have some business to attend to. The two of
them left. Normally these card sessions would run well into the small hours,
  but it was only just gone eight in the evening as Dad and Uncle Clive sat
in the living room, relaxing in easy chairs. Uncle Clive was not a real
uncle, he was just a close friend of Dad's and had been since my mums death
when I was a baby. I sat on his lap

     "Well Jack, what happens now? I have counted your markers and you are
in the hole for just over two thousand pounds. I make it two thousand four
hundred and fifty. I'll round it down to two thousand."

     "Its not the money that's bothering me Clive, it's the damned stupid
bet I made using Patrick as collateral. The other two guys have been
married, Charlie twice. You never have married, and as far as I can recall
you never had a girlfriend either. I think you know what I am driving at. I
am worried. It's not that you may be gay, that would be fine in my eyes, no,
my worry is that I have never seen you with a boyfriend either"

     "I thought I knew what you were trying to say but now I'm not so sure,
just what do you think I am? What label are you trying to put on me?"

     Dad hesitated. He was really uncomfortable now. He had talked himself
into a corner. On the one hand he wanted to ask straight questions, on the
other he didn't want to frighten me. He had no choice.

     "Are you gay Clive and more importantly are you a paedophile? Do you
have sexual feelings towards my son"

     Now it was Clive's turn to be uncomfortable.

     "Not exactly, I think of myself as a pederast"

     "You saying there's a difference? What is it and answer my question
about being attracted to Patrick"

     "A pederast is a boy lover. It's not just sexual, it's the whole love
bit. A pederast is a guy who becomes devoted to a boy emotionally as well as
sexually. That's what I am and yes, I am attracted to Patrick. Now before
you go ape at me there are things to discuss, and staying calm will help the
situation. There is no point in either of us loosing our tempers. You know
that what I am is illegal in any country. If I make a move on Patrick you
could have me put away for a long time. However, I have a signed piece of
paper from you giving your permission for me to use Patrick as I wish. You
would be in prison with me, and there are two witnesses to this piece of
paper."

     Dad went quiet. I didn't understand most of what they were saying but I
did understand the bit about Uncle Clive liking me lots. I was happy with
that, I liked him too. I was still sitting on his lap so I snuggled into
him. Dad went to the sideboard and poured out two whiskeys. He handed one to
Uncle Clive.

     "You know what I will do if you hurt him don't you?"

     "I have no intention of hurting him, to be quite honest I don't know
what I intend. What I am getting now is more than I ever believed I would
ever have. I think there are deals to be struck here. I don't want anybody
else to know that I am what I am. You have that over me, what price is your
discretion on that?"

     "You never have, nor allow anyone else to have, sexual intercourse with
him. Nothing goes up that bottom. Its strictly a one way street"

     "Sorry, that's too high a price, what about this? I am the only one to
touch him intimately, I will share him with no one. Does that buy your
silence"

     Dad had forgotten the possibility of my being 'rented out' that thought
was worse than any other he had imagined.

     "Yes he is for your use only, that buys my discretion. What will it
take to stop you having anal intercourse with him?"

     "I am certain that Anal would hurt him. I will not hurt him so you get
that one for free."

     All this time I could feel Uncle Clive getting really hard as I sat on
his lap, I was getting a stiffy too. Both Dad and Uncle saw it as my shorts
tented up slightly though even hard it was very small.

     "I would prefer it if Patrick stays here with me, I think it would be
wrong to have him move in with you"

     "That's fair enough, I will sleep here tonight. How big is his bed?"

     We all went up to my bedroom. It was a large room and sometimes when we
had visitors, I would have a 'put u up' bed in Dad's room. That is why much
to Uncle Clive's surprise and delight, there was a double bed in my room. It
was now nearly nine o'clock and that was my bed time. Dad looked at his
watch.

     "Bed time Patrick. Say goodnight to Uncle Clive."

     Uncle Clive told Dad that he was going to go to bed too but it took
some moments for Dad to realise that Clive was going nowhere, Dad would be
the only one to leave the bedroom. As I kissed him goodnight, I thought I
saw his eyes watering up.

     "Goodnight son, good luck. I am so terribly sorry. I will sort this out
tomorrow, see if I don't. Be a good boy and do as Uncle Clive asks."

     He kissed me on both eyes as he normally did, except I would normally
be in bed when he would do that. He left my bedroom. Uncle Clive was sitting
on the edge of my bed watching me. For the first time that evening I started
to feel frightened. He could see the worry all over my face. I stood there,
frozen to the spot.

     He stood and walked to my wardrobe. Opening the doors he started
looking and feeling my clothes there. He took out one of my school shirts
and sniffed it, feeling the stiff material of the collar and rolling his
eyes in pleasure. He opened a drawer. That's where my underpants were kept.
He took out a pair of my briefs, they were decorated with characters from
Winnie the Pooh, he put those to his nose too.

     He looked at all my briefs, taking them out one at a time and feeling
them. He turned and looked at me. I was bright red with embarrassment. I had
never seen or heard of anybody behaving like this.

     "Come on Patrick, get undressed and ready for bed. Let me watch you get
undressed"

     I started to take my tee shirt off, it took longer than it should. When
it was off I looked at him pleadingly. He pointed to my trainers, I took
them off, then my socks.
Slowly I pulled my shorts to the floor. I stood in front of him wearing just
my briefs. Tears were running down my face as he beckoned me over to him.

     He put his thumbs inside the elasticated waist band and he knelt down
in front of me looking at the tiny tent I was making. He stood up, picked me
up and cuddled me to him.

     "I can't do it lad. I am so sorry I have upset you as much as I have. I
am going to the bathroom, while I am there you get into your pyjamas and
scoot into bed. I will see you in a little while"

     He kissed me on both eyes as he had seen my Dad do and left the room.
Seconds later I was in bed.

     When he returned to my room he picked up my clothes and smelled them.
Quite slowly he undressed in front of me, down to his briefs. I could see a
large wet patch on the front of them and thought he couldn't have made it to
the bathroom in time. The tent he was still making scared me it was so big.
I had never seen anybody else naked before and as he took down his underwear
my eyes opened so wide at the size of him. To me it was massive, in reality
it was a standard six inches. Again he changed his mind and putting his
briefs back on, he slipped into bed with me. He pulled me to him and I
spooned into him. I could still feel his stiffness against my legs as I
drifted off to sleep.

     It was a surprisingly restful night, I only woke once. Uncle Clive
never touched me other than the initial cuddle. I didn't know it but Dad was
having a far from restful night. He was tossing and turning and even once
had to go to the bathroom where he was physically sick he was so distraught
about what he had done.

     The following morning saw us in bed cuddling up to each other again.
Uncle started kissing me and rubbing his hand over my chest under my
sweatshirt style pyjama top. I sat up and raised my arms as he slid it up
over my head and off. He continued to rub my chest and started to kiss my
little nipples. All this I was enjoying till he slid his hand down over my
stomach and below, over the top of my pyjama bottoms, I went rigid with
fear. Although my little cocklet was stiff I hated him touching it, even
through the material.

     He was holding it now, through the material yes, but holding it none
the less. I started sobbing.

     "Oh come on Patrick, Last night your daddy told you to do as I asked
didn't he?"

     I just nodded through my tears. I felt his hand go inside my pyjamas
and start to fondle me. I was out of the bed in a flash. As I tried to get
to the other side of the room he had grabbed the waistband of the only
garment between me and nudity, it gave way leaving him holding the torn
remains and me cowering naked in the corner

     He saw what effect he was having on me. I was terrified. I was grouched
in the corner of the room my hands giving me the only modesty I could
rescue, crying silently. Tears ran freely down my face as I tried to make
myself as small as I could.

     Now it was his turn to cry, he hated it. He had upset me again and
there seemed no way round the problem. He so wanted me to love him, and when
he was not attempting to do anything sexual, I very nearly did. But then he
would always go that step too far, he would always cross that boundary. His
lust for me would override the love he was developing for me and he would
reduce me to a frightened child who hated him. He just couldn't help
himself.

     He got out of bed and went to the bathroom. I couldn't move. I wanted
to get dressed but I had frozen. I cowered in the corner shaking. That was
when Dad walked in. He saw the state I was in and saw the ripped clothing.
He was turning the deepest red with rage. Uncle Clive came back into the
room and saw the pair of us. Dad turned on him.

     "So this is "Boy-Love" is it? You love my son so much you rip his
clothes off him and reduce him to this. Oh yes very romantic, I can see how
you like a willing child. You told me last night that you loved boys so much
you could never harm one, well how do you explain this eh, HOW DO YOU
EXPLAIN THIS?"

     Uncle Clive was quite taken aback at the ferocity of the verbal attack
and tried to stutter that he had hardly touched me and that he had never
meant to upset me.

     The only thing that stopped Dad smashing the living daylights out of
Uncle was my presence. Uncle realised this immediately and whilst collecting
up his clothes, kept fairly close to me. He dressed and pretty well fled the
house.

     Dad was crying openly now. He went to my wardrobe and as he was passing
me some clothes to put on, he saw the clothes that Uncle Clive had taken
out. I had only just managed to put my briefs on when Dad picked me up and
hugged me so very tightly to him. He was almost wailing in agony that he was
so sorry and that he had been so stupid. There was no way he could believe
what he had done. He was begging me to forgive him. I was crying too now, It
seemed to me that I was now loosing my Dad. He was begging me but I didn't
want him to, it seemed so wrong that he should do so.

     There was a problem. Well there were many problems now. Firstly there
was the money that Dad owed, nearly two and a half thousand pounds, Never
mind the fact that Uncle had rounded it down, Dad swore he would pay the man
every penny. Then there were the other two, Eric and Charlie. What would
they be told? What would Dad tell them and what was Uncle Clive going to
tell them? As much as he hated the idea, he was going to have to talk to
Uncle Clive again. He decided to do that later, let everyone calm down. Then
there was that piece of paper. That damned piece of paper.

     As we sat downstairs I could see the worry written all over his face,
worst of all I had started to think it was all my fault. If I had let Uncle
touch my thingy like he wanted to everything would be all right. Maybe I
should let him touch it. I went stiff thinking about it, but didn't like the
idea. Dad reached for the telephone. All I heard was Dad's end of the
conversation.

     "Clive, it's me, Jack. I think we need to talk...   Yes just talk, I
won't harm you, I have calmed down now...   Well I have to say that's not what
it looked like to me...    No I haven't talked to him about it. I am not sure
that I can...   I don't think this can continue, well that's not true, I know
it can't...   OK, get your arse over here lunch time and bring a bottle, we
may need it"

     Lunch time was agreed and that was in about three hours. Dad decided to
ask me what went on last night. I told him the whole story about how we were
fine when we cuddled but that he had wanted to watch me get undressed, he
had even nearly taken my underpants down. Then I told him about this morning
and how he had put his hand in my pyjamas and that they tore as I ran away
from him. I told him I was frightened I didn't know what he was going to do
but I didn't like it anyway.

     Dad listened to my side, it was identical to Uncle Clive's account of
what had happened. He relaxed slightly but seemed distant. Had he over
reacted to what he had seen in the bedroom? Maybe he should have explained
to me what was going to happen. He didn't know for sure but decided to
explain some things to me now.

     "Patrick, there are some things that I should have said to you, I will
tell you now but first I think we need to go to your bedroom"

     We went upstairs and into my bedroom, Dad looked about for a few
moments then went to my wardrobe. He looked in the drawer that held my
underwear and passed me a pair of nearly new briefs, they had a Harry Potter
design on them. He handed me the white shirt that Uncle Clive had been
feeling and my red shorts. He completed the attire with white socks and
sandals. Although it was not too cold he added a pale blue vee neck woollen
pullover. He went down stairs after asking me to change into these clothes.

     When I went down stairs, wearing the clothes he had selected, Dad sat
me down. He was looking at me as he told me I looked as pretty as a picture
and as sweet as candy.

     "Patrick, I think I need to tell you some things. I have always told
you not to speak to strangers when you are out. I think I had better tell
you why you shouldn't do so. There are men, and indeed a few women too, who
like children. They want to do very rude things to them. Its very naughty
what they do and the police will put them in prison if they catch them.

     "Yesterday I was a very silly man and did something I shouldn't have
done. I made a promise that I would let someone do those very rude things to
you. The person I said could do these things was Uncle Clive. I didn't
really think he would, but as you now know, he does want to. We have to keep
this a secret, none of us must ever tell anyone about this or both Uncle
Clive and I will go to prison."

    "I hope I can talk him out of this and that you won't have to do
anything rude but if he says that I have to let him, then I will have to. If
I don't then he can send me to prison. Do you understand what I am telling
you?"

     I nodded my head yes but my head was full of questions. I had
understood what he had said, but had no real idea as to what rude things
Uncle might want to do, after a moments silence I plucked up the courage and
asked him.

     "Oh god, you have no idea how much I was hoping you were not going to
ask me that. Well first either he will want to watch you take all your
clothes off, or he may prefer to undress you himself. It is possible he will
put your willy in his mouth for a while, he will almost certainly want to
kiss it. He will I think want to play about with your bottom too, it is
possible that he will ask you to put his willy in your mouth too. I really
hope he doesn't do that"

     The shock horror on my face was enough to silence my father, it was
lucky he hadn't gone into further details about what my bottom was going to
be used for.

     "Honestly Patrick, I will do everything I can to persuade him not to
but that's the worst he can do"

     I thought that it all sounded horrible, I didn't like any of it, but I
didn't want Dad to go to prison either. I didn't know what to say or do.
Well there was nothing I could say or do. Slowly the dull pain of
realisation crept into my head. I was going to have a horrible time and
there was nothing dad or I could do about it. I moved over to Dad and sat on
his lap. He cuddled me into him.

     "How on earth can you still love me after all I am putting you through
Patrick, I just don't understand."

     I looked up and kissed him on the cheek. I did still love him, I loved
him every bit as much as I ever had. I was determined to let Uncle Clive do
what ever he wanted. I would try not to cry and I would even try to look
happy. I would even kiss his smelly willy if I had too. I wouldn't let my
Dad down again.

     The door bell rang and like a condemned man, Dad went to answer it. He
came back into the living room with Uncle Clive.

     "Am I forgiven little man"

     "Yes sir errrm Uncle Clive."

     He sat in one of the armchairs and relaxed a little. I went and sat on
his lap. I felt him as his head came to mine and as he took a long sniff. He
looked at the clothes I was wearing and I could feel his growing approval in
his lap underneath me. I sat still.

     "So how are we going to play this Jack? I would rather not have a
repeat of last night and this morning, especially this morning. I hadn't
hardly touched the boy"

     "First 'the boy' has a name. I think we would all be rather more
relaxed if we remembered our manners. Patrick is, after all sitting on your
lap. I am having a little difficulty coming to terms with exactly what you
want from him. You said you were a boy-lover, yet it's plainly obvious that
what you do distresses Patrick greatly. Do you enjoy this distress, is it
part of the kicks you get?"

     "No, I hated seeing him so upset, I never want to upset him like that
again. The problem is that I am what I am, and suddenly like a gift from
above I have access to a small boy. A lad who is just at the age I dream
about. Half the time I think I will tear up the promise you wrote and just
give you time to pay what you owe me, but then the other side of me kicks
in. I will never ever have this opportunity again. Here is a small boy who
is available to me. All I have to do is to get him to like me."

     As he was saying this I felt his hand as it started caressing my leg,
his hand moved over my knee and on to my thigh. I started to freeze and he
immediately stopped his upwards direction, satisfying himself with just
gently stroking my thigh. I could see Dad was stiffening too. It was a very
tense moment. It was my turn. I had to help Dad, he needed me.

     "I will like you, I promise"

     Both the men fell totally silent as I left his lap and stood in front
of him.

     "I will like you and I will let you do what you want but only if you do
one thing for me"

     "What's that? If you will just let me play with you once, just once, I
will do anything you ask"

     "If you burn all the bits of paper you have that dad lost at playing
cards, I will let you do what ever you like with me from now till tomorrow
morning and I will do what ever you ask me to do with you"

     Uncle Clive looked at me, so did Dad. Dad had tears welling up.

     "You don't have to do that Patrick, I will pay Clive what I owe him
somehow"

     I didn't look at Dad, I couldn't. There was no way I wanted to see my
own father cry and I could tell he was crying. I looked steadfastly at Uncle
Clive.

     "You realise how much money that is don't you? It's a lot. You are
asking me to pay two thousand pounds to have my way with you, and I only get
that once."

     I didn't reply, I just stood there in front of him looking, as my Dad
had put it, "Pretty as a picture and as sweet as candy."  My longish fair
hair and blue eyes were tempting him, my face showed no expression other
than a slight impish smile that could have meant anything.

     He was looking into my eyes trying to read what thoughts lay behind. He
couldn't read me. He was trying to see how much of this was negotiable. He
couldn't see. He was trying to tell if I was for real or if Dad had put me
up to this. He couldn't tell.

     He looked at Dad, that told him one thing, It was obvious that I had
made the offer from my own part, Dad had nothing to do with it. He read Dad
like a book, he always could. That was why Dad owed him so much money. It
went through his mind that he could scrap all the 'IOUs' and soon win them
all back again. I know that was what he was thinking, I could read him every
bit as well as he could read Dad.

     "Two thousand pounds Patrick, are you worth two thousand pounds?"

     I just stood there looking pretty. I started playing with the button
that held the top of my shorts together. The realisation of what I had
offered hit me again, but there was no turning back now. I still stood still
looking pretty. The thought of him looking at my naked body gave me another
stiffy and he saw it right away.

     He looked again at my face, he burst out laughing.

     "My God boy, when you are old enough to play Poker I will quit the
game. Jack, learn from your boy here, his face is the perfect poker face.
It's absolutely impossible to read what's going on behind the scenes there."

      My dad managed a weak smile, but he really didn't feel like laughter.
Once again he was feeling sick over what was going on. He knew that I would
hate what was now almost certain to happen. He was watching the exchanges
between Uncle Clive and me. He could see I was playing him like a fish, but
a fish that, were I to land it, would cause me nothing but pain, guilt and
revulsion. He could see that I was going to go through with this and that I
was doing it all for him, and it was all his own stupid fault.

     "Well Patrick I asked you a question. Are you worth two thousand
pounds?"

     "No he isn't, He's worth a hundred times that, no a thousand times
that. My son has just offered you his own body, for you to do with as you
please, and he has done it for me. He has done it to get me off the hook. He
is ten years old and he is looking after his father. Getting his father out
of trouble. Don't make it worse for him than it already is. Either take his
offer or reject it. If you decide to show that promise of mine to the police
then do so. If you decide to tell the world that my promises are worthless
then so be it. But make your decision. Either take Patrick to his room or
leave. If you leave I will pay what I owe. You know he is going to hate what
ever you do to him, but he has said he will let you. Make your decision and
be damned."

     Dad stormed out of the room and into the kitchen. I knew he couldn't
stand seeing me showing myself off as I had started doing. Still there I was
standing in front of Uncle Clive waiting for his answer.

     "Come here my pretty one, you and I have made a deal. I accept your
offer"

     Slowly I approached him. I shivered very slightly. The small smile I
wore stayed as he undid my sandals and took them from my feet. He kissed my
lips and tried to put his tongue in my mouth. After an initial resistance I
let him do so, managing not to gag as his tongue started to play with mine.
He broke the kiss and turned his attentions back to my feet. He removed my
socks and went down to kiss my feet, again his tongue came into play as he
licked at my toes. Although it tickled I couldn't bring myself to laugh. My
smile was wearing thin but I tried to keep it going.

     He kissed up my legs and up to my thighs kissing and licking as he
went. His hand found the button on the waistband of my shorts and I could
feel him trembling as he undid it. He found the zipper and slowly pulled it
down. My little shorts fell to the floor. He lifted each foot as he made me
step out of them. My briefs held him captivated for some moments then
putting his fingers inside them those too were pulled to the floor. His
prize was there for him. Two and a half inches of uncut cocklet pointed at
the ceiling. He undid the cuffs of my shirt before slipping me out of my
pullover. As he undid the buttons of my shirt he was kissing my face and
licking the tears that now flowed down my cheeks. He peeled my shirt back
slightly and that too fell to the floor. He stood back and looked at my
naked body for a minute or so. I stood there arms by my side and legs
slightly apart. My tears were falling on my shirt. My smile had now faded
away totally. I stood there waiting for his next move.

     He came to me and picked me up, carrying me up the stairs to my
bedroom. My father, hearing the creek of the staircase returned to the
sitting room, only to see all my clothes on the floor. He picked them up and
on seeing my Harry Potter underpants there, he broke down, crying into my
shirt, his tears mixing with my own.

     That's how Uncle Clive found him some five or six minutes later.
Collapsed in the chair crying into my clothes. Dad was able to look up and
was rather surprised to see that Uncle Clive was also crying.

     "I couldn't do it. I couldn't go through with it. I had him in my mouth
and I heard a whimper. It was the only noise he made. He never tried to stop
me, he never complained. He was doing his very best not to cry and he nearly
succeeded. I cant do that to a boy, I know you think I am filth personified
but I honestly could only have carried on if he had been genuinely willing.
I feel a real bastard for how far I went anyway. I went too far. I am so
sorry."

     He too slumped down into an armchair. He took a cigarette from a packet
and taking his lighter he lit it. He took a long draw from the cigarette. He
looked round. I had walked back into the room. I was dressed again, I was
wearing another pair of shorts, white ones this time and a tee shirt. I was
back in my trainers. He took one of my Dads markers, one for fifty pounds
and lit the end of it. As it burned I had an idea. I took off one of my
trainers.

     Uncle Clive looked a little surprised but only realised what I was
doing as he took another fifty pound marker and lit it. I took off the other
trainer. Two more markers and I was bare foot, socks on the floor. A hundred
pound one won him my tee shirt and the next took my shorts. He was about to
light another marker, even though his hand was shaking when I ran off back
up stairs.

     I was back in a couple of minutes or so, but I was dressed again, this
time in my school uniform. This time he named the garments I was to take
off, one each for every marker, down to my underpants. Then back upstairs I
went. This carried on till I was coming down stairs in what few clothes
remained, Trousers and shorts had run out a while back. I was lucky, he had
run out of markers just before I had run out of clothes. He had one piece of
paper left. It said,

     "I, Jack Reever, hereby give my permission to the bearer of this note
to make what ever use of my son he feels fit, be it for work or for play.
And I further bet that this note never leaves my possession. This promise is
valid for as long as I owe the bearer money."

     It was signed by my Dad.

     Jack stared at it. It was just about the most stupid thing he had ever
done and here I was, his son, a ten year old boy, bailing him out from it.

     The paper started to burn and Clive looked at me. He was obviously
disappointed when I didn't take off my briefs. But he let the note burn. He
had enjoyed the show and strangely enough I had enjoyed giving it.

     As the last of the paper frizzled up and turned to ash I went over to
Uncle Clive and stood about a foot away from him, in front of him. I linked
my fingers together and put my hands behind my head. I stood there for some
moments with my tented underwear before he finally realised what I was
offering, only this time the smile was real. He slipped my briefs off and
once again I was naked in front of him. I turned round slowly so he had a
good view all round of me then I sat in his lap.

     He went to touch me but I asked him not to. To have a naked boy on his
lap was all I was offering. It was good enough for him. He cuddled me too
him. Dad came over, eyes still red and tearful and kissed me. Uncle Clive
broke the silence.

    "Patrick, I asked you earlier if you were worth two thousand pounds?
Well I know now, there has never been enough money printed in the world to
cover what you are worth, and never will be."

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That was   'The Gambler'   A short story by Angela Mynah

angela_mynah@msn.com

All comments welcome, even flamers. Its being ignored I can't stand.

Please do e-mail me, I get a lot of my ideas from what you say.