THE HUNTING SEASON

By Pink Panther

Dearly beloved brethren, we are gathered here together . . . No we're not! What am I talking about? Well, I just disclaimed again, and so did Nifty. And you know what that means, right?

Following the posting of this chapter, I'll be off to Spain for a week, and I'm not sure what computer access I'll have while I'm there, so there will be a gap of two weeks before I post chapter 18. After that, I may have to revert to posting once every two weeks for a while. The problem is that with my various other commitments, I can't write fast enough, LOL!

As always, feedback is very welcome. I love to hear from my readers! So please send your comments to archimede294@hushmail.com and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

And finally, please remember to donate to Nifty so that it can remain a free site. You know it makes sense!


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

February 1960

Michael waited anxiously. Chris was due to arrive at any moment. How would it go? Would he want to play around again? Even if he did, there might be a problem. Up to then, he'd accepted everything they'd done without question. But Chris was very bright. As they moved on, he'd want to know how Michael had learned about the new things they were doing together.

He might ask when he was shown the "frottage" thing that Mr Faulkner had talked about. Of course, Michael wouldn't call it that. It wasn't the sort of word kids his age would know. But there might still be questions. What was he going to say? He couldn't tell the truth. Chris might never want to speak to him again.

He'd invented a cover story, but could he be sure that Chris wouldn't see through it? He'd thought about it endlessly. The story sounded plausible, at least, he thought it did. And he was sure Chris wouldn't be able to check it. It was the best he could do.

The doorbell rang. Still apprehensive, he hurried to answer it.

"Hi!" Chris said brightly, stepping inside.

For a moment, Michael hesitated.

"Are we going up to your room?" Chris asked.

"Yes, of course," Michael said. "Sorry, I was miles away."

They made their way upstairs. As Michael closed his bedroom door, he checked out the front of Chris's jeans. There was a small but noticeable bulge. It was the sign he'd been hoping for. He took a deep breath.

"D'you want to play around again?" he asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

"Yeah!" Chris answered, giving him a conspiratorial grin.

Michael closed the curtains. He turned, nodding to Chris. They began to undress. In less than a minute, they were down to their underpants.

"Let's take them off together," Michael suggested.

Chris grinned and nodded.

"Okay," Michael continued. "On a count of three; one, two, three!"

Simultaneously, they pulled down their underpants, bringing their stiff cocks into full view. Michael was enraptured. Chris was gorgeous, as beautiful as any boy he'd ever seen. It didn't matter than his penis wasn't as large as King's or that he couldn't cum. He was every bit as alluring.

They got onto the bed, Michael turning onto his side to face his friend. Just as he had on his previous visit, Chris followed suit, their penises making contact.

"When you're at home," Michael asked. "Do you ever hump the mattress or the pillow or anything?"

"You mean like this?" Chris queried, rolling onto his tummy, his hips making thrusting movements.

"Yeah."

"I can't," Chris said, turning back onto his side. "We've got bunk beds, remember? Robbie would want to know what I was doing."

"Sorry, I forgot," Michael acknowledged. He gathered all his courage. "If you want, you could try doing it lying on top of me."

"Really?" Chris queried, raising an eyebrow. "Okay!"

Michael lay on his back. Chris climbed over and lay down on top of him, their dicks mashing together between their firm, flat tummies. Michael was in heaven. Having Chris so close felt wonderful. He'd have loved to pull his friend into a kiss, but it was too soon. It could ruin everything if it went wrong. As Chris began to hump, Michael ran his hands down the boy's long, slim thighs.

"Does that feel good?" he asked.

"Yeah!" Chris confirmed, grinning down at him.

And it did feel good, Michael considered, just not quite good enough. Enjoyable as it was, he knew instinctively that what they were doing wouldn't take them any further. He wouldn't have an orgasm, even if they kept at it all day. He didn't think Chris would either.

"Would you like to try something that feels even better?" he asked.

Chris stopped moving, looking down at him in anticipation.

"Move down a bit," Michael instructed. He waited for Chris to wriggle a little way down. "Okay, hold it there. Now stick your cock between my legs."

With Chris's dick between his thighs, Michael clamped him as tight as he could.

"Okay!" he said. "Now do it!"

Chris set to work. Michael felt the head of his friend's penis jabbing repeatedly into his perineum. This was more like it! He wasn't sure if he'd have an orgasm, but he was almost certain that Chris would.

"Ohh!" Chris squealed, his cock swelling and jerking between Michael's legs. "Ohh! Ohh! Ohhhhhh!"

He collapsed like a rag doll, his heart thumping against Michael's chest. After a short while, he lifted himself up, his weight resting on his forearms.

"So how was that?" Michael enquired, looking up at him.

"Unbelievable!" Chris said, a smile right across his face. "That was the best ever!" He paused. "Would you like to do me?"

"Is that okay?" Michael asked cautiously. "I'll squirt on your leg."

"That's okay," Chris said, still grinning. "It won't hurt, will it?"

He got up onto his knees and sat back on his heels, his cock still sticking straight up. Leaning over the side of the bed, Michael rummaged in his sports bag. He pulled out his towel.

"Here," he said, "we'd better put this under you."

After they'd spread it over the bed, Chris lay on his back. Michael quickly got on top, pushing his penis down between his friend's thighs. Even that felt good, and he hadn't even started. He began to hump. He was amazed. What Mr Faulkner had told him was right. It felt almost like fucking; Chris's penis rubbing against his tummy was simply an added bonus. The tingling sensations built rapidly. After less than a minute, his cock jerked between Chris's legs, his cum spurting onto the towel. As soon as he'd recovered, he lifted himself clear and stood up.

"Your spunk's gone all over my arse," Chris said, grinning.

"Are you okay?" Michael asked.

"Sure," Chris told him, getting off the bed and wiping himself with the towel. "That was super!"

After a trip to the bathroom, they began to get dressed.

"Mike," Chris asked, looking at him intently. "How did you know about . . . , you know, what we just did?"

"You've got to promise not to tell anyone," Michael responded, looking very serious. "Mum'd kill me if she found out."

"Of course!" Chris assured him. "Not a word, I promise!"

"Last summer, we went on holiday to Devon," Michael said quietly. "We were staying at this small private hotel. The landlady had a son, David. He was a bit older than us. He was off school too, so we began playing together. One afternoon, my Mum and Dad had gone off somewhere, and his mum was down in the kitchen preparing the evening meal. He suggested we go and play in his bedroom. He must have realised I was curious. He started showing me things, oh, not all at once. We played there several times after that."

"Wow!" Chris breathed.

He opened his mouth as though about to continue, but suddenly stopped.

"Sorry!" he added a moment later, suppressing a giggle.

"What?" Michael demanded.

"I was going to say, `I wish I could meet someone like that'," Chris said, smiling, "but I already have, haven't I?"

Michael could hardly believe his ears. Chris's words meant everything to him. He wanted to tell him that he loved him, tell him he was the most special boy he'd ever met, but he knew he couldn't, not yet. As with so many things, he'd have to wait.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Michael pedalled towards Mr Faulkner's flat. He wasn't looking forward to it the way he usually did. Mr Faulkner would want to know about his latest encounter with Chris. He'd been stupid, he told himself. He should never have told the man what he and Newton had been up to.

Mr Faulkner fancied Newton something rotten; he'd said so. And now he knew that they'd begun doing things, he'd be pestering him all the time, wanting to know all about it.

And it wasn't just that hearing about it would make him horny. What the man really wanted was to fuck Chris's bum. That's what he'd said. He might even ask him to arrange it, to bring Newton to the flat or something.

Michael knew he wouldn't want to do that. Either he'd have to trick Chris into coming with him or he'd have to tell his friend what he and Mr Faulkner did together. The first was just wrong, and he couldn't face doing the second. Chris would be horrified. He was sure of it.

He could only see one way out. He'd have to tell Mr Faulkner that he wasn't going to see him anymore. He loved Chris to bits. He knew it was what he ought to do. But he couldn't. It'd mean he'd never see King again, or Southcott.

The price was simply too high. Meeting other boys who enjoyed sex was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He wasn't going to give it up. He'd just have to tell Mr Faulkner as little about himself and Chris as he could get away with.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It was Saturday evening. Alex dialled Gordon's number. After three rings, his mentor answered.

"Good evening," Alex said. "How was London?"

"Excellent!" Gordon gushed. "Tosca was simply sublime! The concert was very good too. It was just the sort of break I needed. The boys will be back tomorrow afternoon."

"I'm sure you're looking forward to that."

"Oh yes! After a week off, I can hardly wait to see them again."

"Holdsworth came over. For some reason, he could only make it on Thursday, when Whitney was due to see me. Whitney asked if it'd be okay to bring him along, Holdsworth's idea, apparently. Well, I wasn't going to say no."

"Sounds delightful! So what did you do?"

"Well, I knew Whitney had fucked him earlier on, so I reckoned we'd spit-roast him. But when I asked, Holdsworth said he wanted us to take turns on him, so we did."

"That's not a surprise. I told you, didn't I? And you're coming here next Saturday?"

"Definitely!"

"Excellent! Next Saturday it is. Southcott will be pleased."

"D'you remember I mentioned Whitney's friend Newton? Well, a few days ago, Newton asked Whitney some rather pertinent questions, which Whitney was more than happy to answer. It seems that one thing led to another, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"Very interesting!"

"Yes, Newton's gorgeous. Now that he's a live prospect, I'll have to start paying him some more attention, very subtly, of course."

"Oh yes; you mustn't rush things."

"Whitney's being a bit difficult though. At first, he couldn't wait to tell me about it. I didn't think Newton would be ready for oral, so I suggested they try frottage. Anyway, when he was here this afternoon, I asked him how they'd got on. He was very non-committal, as though he didn't want to talk about it."

"Dear boy, you really must learn to stop asking questions! The more you ask, the less he's going to tell you. Just be patient. He's confided in you before. Leave him alone and he'll do it again. And when he does, don't show any excitement."

"Sorry! I was letting my curiosity run away with me. Actually, there was one other thing I wanted to ask you. Martin mentioned that he and Jessop had been visited by Mr Green and a boy called Pickford. He sounded rather interesting."

"Yes, he is, up to a point. But John Franklin definitely wouldn't come to you, and there's no possibility of you going there."

"What about the week before Easter. We'll be off school then."

"John doesn't teach at a choir school like Martin and I do, where the choristers have to stay behind to sing at the Holy Week services. He's not even a musician. He teaches history."

"If I can get Whitney to meet me really early, we might be able to make it on a Saturday afternoon."

"Well, you might, I suppose, but I'm not sure it's a good idea. John's modus operandi is somewhat different from mine or Martin's. I wouldn't describe him as old school, but he's more in that direction, shall we say. And I'm not sure that Pickford would be that interested in Whitney. He likes smaller, younger boys, like Holdsworth and Jessop. He likes to order them around. I'm not sure how Whitney would take to that."

"Oh, I see," Alex responded, somewhat deflated. "Martin never mentioned it. All he said was that John's two younger boys aren't very enthusiastic."

"That's what I meant about John being more old school than we are. And he's completely in thrall to Pickford. Oh, the boy is stunningly beautiful. Unfortunately, he knows it. If you want my opinion, he's not a nice lad at all. He's arrogant and domineering with the younger boys. Of course, Holdsworth doesn't mind a bit, but that's beside the point. A year ago, before Pickford could cum, Maitland fucked him a few times. He was so condescending! I find him thoroughly obnoxious."

"Perhaps we'd better leave it. I've got a boy in my form who's really full of himself. I can't stand him. Fortunately, he's not very nice looking. Well, they say beauty is only skin deep."

"That certainly applies in Pickford's case."

"Has Southcott met him yet?"

"No, and he's not going to. That would be far too explosive a combination!"

"Yes, well thanks for the advice. We'll see you next Saturday."

They ended the call. Alex was disappointed. He'd have liked to meet Pickford to give him the good, hard fucking which the lad so obviously needed. But it would have meant putting Whitney through an experience that he wouldn't have enjoyed in the slightest. He couldn't do it. Whitney deserved better than that.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Monday morning and back at school, Alex was summoned to the Headmaster's office.

"Come in!" he said warmly as Alex entered. "Take a seat. I understand that you put the Third Year boy Parker in Saturday morning detention?"

"Yes, he hadn't done his homework. Actually, he hadn't even started it. And to add insult to injury, he handed his exercise book in without telling me."

"Which, I have no doubt, is something you've told them they are not to do."

"Precisely. I've made it very clear that if they have not done the homework I've set, they have to tell me."

"Has he failed to do his homework before?"

"Not completely like he did this time. A number of times he hasn't finished it, so I've kept him in at lunchtime to complete it."

"I see. The reason I asked to see you was that he failed to turn up. I'm going to speak to him about it, but before I decide what I'm going to do with him, I wanted to know what the background was. Am I right in thinking that Parker's been uncooperative for some time?"

"Yes, he objects to the extra work that I've made them do. Until recently, he had Laws and Armstrong to back him up, but since the reports went out, those two have got their heads down and done what I've asked them to do."

"Yes, we had a letter from Mr Laws, asking us to let him know if there was any more back-sliding, so I'm not surprised that his lad's been behaving himself."

"Parker resents the fact that they won't go round with him anymore. He reckons it's my fault."

"With his mother backing him up, of course. We've had this before. Right, I'll let you get your break, what's left of it."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Later that day, Alex received a note to say that Parker had been caned for missing Saturday detention. It was both good and bad, he considered. Good because it would help to keep the other boys in line, Laws and Armstrong in particular. Bad because Parker would blame him for it. But he wasn't worried. Things weren't going to get any worse. Short of throwing a tantrum that would get him sent home, there was nothing more Parker could do.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Showered and changed after their games lesson, Michael and Chris made their way out of the pavilion.

"What are we going to do, now we're back at school?" Chris asked quietly.

"I'm not sure," Michael responded.

"What time does your mum get home from work?"

"Half past five."

"If I get home as fast as I can, I could cycle to yours. I'd be there by twenty past four."

"When were you thinking of?" Michael enquired.

"Not today. My legs are too tired. How about tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow would be fine."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Michael waited anxiously. Just before twenty past four, the doorbell rang. He hurried to answer it. Chris was standing there, still dressed in his school uniform.

"Come in," Michael said, noting how much sexier his friend looked wearing shorts rather than jeans.

Without a word, they made their way upstairs.

"Come on," Michael urged, closing his bedroom door. "We haven't got long."

They quickly undressed. There was no time to experiment. They simply reprised the routine that they'd enjoyed four days earlier, and were delighted to find that the second performance went even better than the first. Michael had never been so happy, considering himself to be the luckiest boy alive. They began to pull on their clothes.

"When can we do it again?" Chris asked.

"What about Friday?" Michael offered.

"Yeah, great!" Chris responded, his eyes sparkling. "I'll be here!"

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Saturday had finally arrived. Happily ensconced in Mr Smith's bedroom, Michael and Southcott resumed where they'd left off a few weeks earlier. Michael liked Southcott a great deal. The younger boy was wonderful company. His presence seemed to light up the room. But Michael didn't have any of the feelings for him that he had for King or Newton. He simply enjoyed the encounter for what it was, uninhibited sex with one of the cutest, wildest boys he could ever hope to meet.

They stroked, they sucked, they fingered, the intensity of their foreplay almost off the scale. The sensations Michael was experiencing were simply exquisite. He found it all hugely exciting. They moved inexorably towards the coup de grace. There was no planning, no discussion; it was completely spontaneous.

Southcott got onto all fours, his head and shoulders close to the mattress, his bum pushed well back. Kneeling behind him, Michael moved in close, guiding his well-lubed penis onto his younger friend's anal ring. With one determined thrust, he penetrated him.

"Go on!" Alex urged, his voice breathless with excitement. "Fuck him hard!"

"Yes! Yes!" Southcott added.

Holding him around the thighs, Michael pushed right in, his tummy pressed against Southcott's bottom. After a moment's pause, he began to fuck, in, out, in, out. There was none of the gentleness he'd shown to King. Within just a few seconds he was pounding the eleven-year old's arse harder than he would have believed possible, Southcott's squeaks and moans adding fuel to the fire.

The intensity built towards the inevitable climax. But inevitable as it was, it caught him unprepared. His muscles contracted with a life of their own. The whole room seemed to shake. Lights flashed in front of his eyes.

"Nng! Nng! Nnnnng!!" he groaned, the sheer power of it knocking the breath out of him.

With his balls churning, he buried his cock deep in Southcott's bum. It jerked once, twice, three times, volleys of sticky boy-juice spurting over and over into the younger boy's rectum as though it might never stop.

It ended as suddenly as it had begun. He collapsed over Southcott's back, the room swimming drunkenly around him. He didn't know how long he stayed there. Finally, he pulled out, falling sideways onto the bed.

"Wow!" Southcott breathed, grinning down at him. "That was super! I'd no idea you could fuck like that!"

Still gasping for air, Michael simply looked at him, unable to speak. The next thing he knew, Mr Smith had joined him on the bed and was gently stroking his back.

"Well, dear boy," he cooed, his voice seeming almost ghostly. "That was quite a performance."

Shaking himself back to reality, Michael looked around. They were alone.

"Where's Mr White gone?" he asked, "and Southcott?"

"Only to the guest room," Mr Smith said soothingly. "I don't think you enjoyed watching them the last time you were here. I didn't either, so Mr White and I agreed they should go elsewhere. And it gives us the chance to get to know each other a bit better, doesn't it?"

Without actually meaning to, Michael settled into Mr Smith's arms. He'd never fancied Mr Smith. He was too old. But he had to admit, the man had something about him. The calm, soothing voice, the gentle touch of his fingers; somehow they made him feel safe, protected, valued. He was ready to do whatever his host wanted.

"Do you sing at all?" Mr Smith asked.

"No sir."

"That's a shame. I'd have liked to have you in my choir."

The man drew him into a kiss. Michael found his aroma intoxicating, somehow more mature than Mr White's. He ran his fingers over the choirmaster's penis, a little over seven inches long and very thick. He casually explored it, knowing that very soon it would be right inside him. The prospect didn't scare him. He wanted it to happen.

Snaking around, he extended his tongue, carefully working it over Mr Smith's cock, the man's fingers running through his hair. Finally, he took it into his mouth. He sucked it steadily, pushing a little further down on every stroke.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Mr Smith breathed. "Quite exceptional!"

After a few minutes, they snuggled up again.

"Are you going to fuck me, sir?" Michael asked, smiling.

"Soon," Mr Smith told him. "We need to get you ready first. You really are a delight."

Michael got onto all fours. Moments later he felt Mr Smith's tongue licking his bum-hole. It pushed inside.

"Ooh sir!" he breathed.

The tongue withdrew to be replaced by a slippery finger. It pushed in deep, touching his prostate, his penis twitching in response. The finger moved steadily in and out, making him even hornier. A second finger joined it, the two fingers moving around, getting him ready for what was to follow. Finally, they slipped out.

"Lie on your side," Mr Smith urged.

"Aren't I going to sit on your lap sir?" Michael asked, doing as he'd been asked.

"Not today," Mr Smith said, spooning up behind him.

Instinctively, Michael cocked up his leg, allowing the choirmaster's cock to nuzzle his anus. He relaxed. Mr Smith pushed it in. The momentary pain of entry made him gasp.

"Good boy!" Mr Smith cooed, steadily pushing in deeper until it was fully inside.

Then it began, the man's large dick moving steadily back and forth. Michael was almost delirious with pleasure. From the day Uncle Jack had taken his cherry, he'd loved the warm, full feeling, the rhythmic thrusting, sensations he'd enjoyed with everyone who'd fucked him since. Gradually, the movement became more insistent, making his penis throb.

"Oh yes!" Mr Smith hissed. "Now take what I've got for you!"

The choirmaster's cock swelled deep within him, the man's creamy spunk spewing into his bottom. For some time, they lay where they were until the man finally withdrew. Without warning, Michael was rolled onto his back. A moment later, the choirmaster's mouth had engulfed his cock, sucking it hungrily.

"Oh! Oh! Ohhh!" he gasped, shuddering all over.

As his cock began to pulse, he grabbed Mr Smith's head, holding him in position, little drops of boy-cum squirting almost painfully onto the man's tongue. After a few seconds, he let him go. Mr Smith moved away, smiling and licking his lips.

"Beautiful!" he breathed. "You've got lovely spunk!"

Unable to answer, Michael fell back onto the bed, completely exhausted.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"Come with me," Alex whispered, his hand on Southcott's shoulder.

Southcott stood up.

"Bring your underpants," Alex continued. "We'll need those."

He led the way to the guest room, closing the door behind them.

"So did Whitney give you a good fucking?" he asked, drawing Southcott onto the bed.

"Yes sir!" Southcott confirmed. "It was super. Sir, why have we come in here?"

"Because the last time we met, neither Whitney nor Mr Smith enjoyed watching what we were doing. We've come in here so they won't have to."

"But I thought we were meant to put on a show."

"There's not much point in putting on a show if the audience doesn't like it, is there?" Alex countered, running his hand over the boy's silk-smooth thigh. "I take it you still want to do the sort of things we did before?"

"Oh yes sir!"

"Then we shall," Alex whispered, turning his attention to Southcott's beautiful chest.

"Sir," Southcott asked, "have you met a boy called Pickford?"

"I've not actually met him," Alex responded. "I've heard about him. You haven't met him, have you?"

"No, Mr Smith says he's worried I'd punch him on the nose."

"And would you?"

"I might. Maitland says he's a prick."

"Then it's probably better that you don't meet him."

"He's supposed to have a huge cock, even though he's not that tall."

"So I understand. I believe Holdsworth gets on okay with him."

"Oh, he would! He couldn't care less as long as he's getting a big dick up his arse."

"Well, I think that's enough talking. It's time we got started. How about sucking mine?"

Southcott went straight to it, his lips closing over Mr White's penis. He sucked it sensuously.

"Mmmmm, that's wonderful!" Alex enthused, basking in the delightful sensations. "Okay, my turn now!"

They swapped places. Alex plunged down on Southcott's steel-hard penis, sucking it purposefully, his fingers stroking the lad's perineum. Southcott responded with a series of high-pitched moans and squeaks, an unambiguous signal of his enjoyment. Finally, Alex let him go.

"Sir," Southcott asked, giving him a mischievous grin, "Are you going to lick my bum? Mr Smith always licks me out before he fucks me."

"I'm sure he does," Alex responded, remembering how Gordon had done exactly the same to him. "How many times has he done it?"

"Five, I think. I'm not sure. He doesn't fuck that hard, but it feels like he does because it's so big."

"Yes," Alex agreed, trying not to give too much away. "I guess it would." He passed the boy a tube of K-Y. "Right, get me ready."

Southcott complied, expertly coating Alex's cock.

"Okay, get on all fours," Alex ordered. "You know where I want you."

Southcott moved into position, his feet hanging over the bottom of the bed. Kneeling behind him, Alex set to work, his tongue lapping at the lad's anus. He pushed it in.

"Oh fuck!" Southcott groaned.

Immediately, Alex pulled away and got to his feet.

"What have I told you about your language?" he snapped, administering a hard smack to the boy's buttocks.

"Oh shit!"

When are you going to learn?" Alex demanded. He spanked him again, this time a little lower.

"Bloody hell!"

A third smack followed, catching the lad across the tops of his thighs.

"Yeowww!"

It was the signal for the spanking to end, but Alex wasn't satisfied, smacking him a fourth time.

"You know what happens now, don't you?" he growled, moving in behind him.

Southcott didn't answer. Guiding his cock onto the boy's ravaged hole, Alex slammed it in.

"Fuck!" Southcott screamed. "Fuck!"

Alex picked up the lad's underpants.

"These will keep you quiet," he said coldly, stuffing them into Southcott's mouth. "Now get on your tummy!"

Alex pushed him down, the young ruffian's hips landing on the pillow that had been carefully placed there.

"Now I'm going to give you a fucking you won't forget," he whispered.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The bedroom door opened a little.

"Is it okay if I come in?" a high-pitched voice enquired.

"Sure!" Michael called back.

The door opened fully and a still naked Southcott appeared. He grinned down at them, noting that they'd obviously finished.

"Come on!" he said, taking Whitney's hand. "Let's go to the bathroom."

Michael got off the bed and accompanied him out onto the landing.

"So did you enjoy it today?" he asked.

"What does that tell you?" Southcott shot back, flicking his erect penis.

"You loved it!" Michael said, giving him a mischievous grin.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Alex started the car and turned out of the cathedral close.

"Have you had a good time?" he asked, turning to Whitney.

"Yes sir," Michael said, smiling up at him. "It's been super! What about you?"

"Oh, it's been wonderful," Alex said, smiling back.