WARNING: This story is about an affair between a boy and a man. 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.

 

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The well-dressed boy.

 

By John T. S. Teller.

 

Part 2.

 

The photographs took ages to complete, both inside the church and out, and, although bright, because it was a cold October day, I couldn't wait for them to be over, especially when I saw the well-dressed boy snuggling close to his mother to keep warm. Oh yes, I saw him alright! In fact, everything I did was designed to keep him in my sights. When I saw him with his parents, I knew immediately where he got his beautiful hair from: his mother, a really beautiful woman, had the same coloured hair. And now, rather than him sitting behind me, he was up and about and I was able to take a closer look at him, and I didn't miss anything.

 

Harry said he was thirteen. I would have guessed he was younger than that... perhaps twelve judging from his looks and size. He was no more than five feet tall, and although I couldn't see his body properly beneath the suit he was wearing, I assumed he was slim and delicate. His hands certainly were, and on his left, slim wrist, rather than a watch, he wore a pink wristband. I liked that. Modern kids often wore them, but most were not pink. Harry said he was gay, and the more I watched his movements, the more I could detect the femininity in him. Well... maybe `feminine' would be too strong a word. He was very boyish, but his boyishness wasn't the usual arrogance one associates with a thirteen year old. `Classy' would be a more apt description. I liked that. His father was a tall man with black hair and strong features. The well-dressed boy certainly didn't take after his pater, and I wondered how his father coped with having a `classy' boy for a son. But the four of them seemed happy enough. It was four because there was a small girl with them. About seven she was: a nice little girl who looked more like her father than her mother. The thought crossed my mind that brother and sister may be half-brother and sister.

 

But I wasn't the only one doing an inspection.

 

The well-dressed boy often looked at me. He thought I wasn't watching, but my peripheral vision was in overdrive. I had no idea how much the suit had cost Harry (if he was telling the truth that he'd paid for it), but it was real class, and wouldn't have looked out of place on a tailor's dummy in Savile Row. Above the white, glossy shoes, the crease of his trousers were razor sharp, and above them, he had on a four-button waistcoat. Like the three-button open jacket he was wearing, the buttons were pure white. So was the neat shirt and the silk dickie-bow tie that sat slightly askew in the collar. But I liked that small imperfection in his dress. All boys, no matter how one attends to them, within a few minutes will have done something to spoil perfection. It seems it wasn't just me who had noticed, because just as I was thinking his bow tie was out of place, his mother turned him and straightened it up. That brought a hidden smile to my face. Mum wanted her boy to look perfect when it was their turn to join in the photographic session.

 

And thank goodness it wasn't long before the group photographs were taken. I'd been hoping the well-dressed boy would be near me, but because he was with the Bride's family, he stood on the other side of the grouping. The upside was that if nothing else, I would at least have a photograph of him to swoon over when Harry presented me with my copy of the wedding album.

 

Photographs over, and with most of us shivering, we went to our cars to go back to the Manor Hotel where the reception was to be held. Because Harry went with his bride in the limousine that had brought her and her father to the church, I was alone when I drove the Rolls away. I'd been quite clever, and had managed to manoeuvre my car immediately behind the car the well-dressed boy's family were in – a late model Honda. I noted the registration number, and managed to write it down as I was driving. A quick check in one of my outlets would tell me all I needed to know about who owned it, and where they lived.

 

When I parked the car, it was immediately next to theirs, and when I got out and the doors locked, the well-dressed boy's father turned to me and held out his hand. I gave him my best smile when he said, "Hello. You're Frank Lee. Harry has told us a lot about you. I'm Aiden Griffiths. Pleased to meet you."

 

I shook his hand, and gave him a nice smile. "Pleased to meet you, too. It was a lovely wedding. Are you related to Rosemarie?"

 

"Yes." He turned to his wife. "This is Denise, Rosemarie's older sister."

 

Because Harry had said the well-dressed boy was Rosemarie's nephew, it added up. But even so, because I was not familiar with Rosemarie's family, the thought that this beautiful boy had been within my reach for quite a while, sort of shocked me. But I managed to hide my surprise when I gave Denise a kiss on each cheek, and then waited for the rest of the introductions after I asked, "And these are your children?"

 

Aiden laughed sarcastically. "Unfortunately!" He pointed to the little girl. "This is Wendy, our daughter."

 

I shook her tiny hand, and she smiled coquettishly when I said, "You're very pretty, Wendy. Nice to meet you."

 

Then he pointed to the well-dressed boy, and said in a voice that didn't carry the same affection as when he'd introduced Wendy, "This is Joel Windsor, my stepson. Denise's boy from her first marriage."

 

I turned to the well-dressed boy and held out a hand. I think he was as nervous as me when he took it, but I made sure my handshake was a firm one when I looked right into his beautiful eyes, and said as honestly as I could without making it obvious that I was in love with him, "I'm very pleased to meet you, Joel. You look fantastic in that suit."

 

He was obviously embarrassed, but also pleased that I'd noticed. He pointed at my car, and said in a voice that was just on the edge of breaking, "I like your car, Sir."

 

I grinned at him. "Anyone who wears a suit like that can call me Frank. Yes, I like the car too. I can show off in it."

 

He laughed, and looked into my eyes, and I didn't miss the certain twinkle that he couldn't hide in them. "How fast does it go?"

 

I shrugged my shoulders. "I think it's supposed to go one hundred and fifty miles an hour, but I've never tried it. I'm too old for that now." Then I winked at him. "When you're eighteen, I'll lend it to you and you can test it for me." He laughed; a beautiful laugh that narrowed his amber eyes, but also brought a sparkle to them, which gave me butterflies in my tummy. Then I turned to his father and mother, and said, "Shall we go in? I don't know about you, but I've not been warm since we went to the church."

 

Aiden nodded. "You're right. We were all shivering while the photos were being taken." And as we were walking towards the stone steps that led to the house, he said, "You've got to make your speech. Are you nervous?"

 

I nodded. "Yes. I can't wait to embarrass Harry."

 

Denise looked round her husband, and asked, knowingly, "You've known him for a long time?"

 

When I nodded to her, I noticed that Joel was looking at me when I replied, "Since he was twelve years old. It was back in the old days when I was just starting my business, when Brendan came to work for me. He used to bring Harry along with him on Sunday mornings." The scrunch of our shoes walking on gravel was sort of melancholy. Without giving out any secrets, I was relating my experiences of the boy I loved to the boy I was now in love with, and I made sure my voice carried the affection I could give to him if ever I was lucky enough to get to know him. "Harry was fun. Never a dull moment with him around. My Sundays were never complete without he was involved in them. I grew to love him very much, and I still do. He's a great guy." I looked at Joel when I said that, and I don't think I was mistaken to see affection in his eyes. I continued, "To be his Best Man is the greatest honour of my life."

 

I expected the question, and it was Denise who asked it. "You were never married?"

 

I looked her right in the eyes, knowing full well that Harry's relationship with me would have been fully discussed in family tittle-tattle. They probably came to the right conclusions, but because I knew Harry would never have told them, I knew their conclusions would have been ambiguous. It's strange how one hides so many things that really shouldn't be hidden, but having loved Harry for all those years, and now walking with another boy I'd fallen in love with, for some strange reason, I decided that I would hide my sexuality no longer. I was not ashamed of loving Harry; I was proud of it. Yes, he was under-age when our affair began, but I had never done anything to Harry that he didn't absolutely desire, and neither, if I was lucky, would I do anything to her beautiful son that wasn't entirely of his choice.  And that's why I answered, "No. I'm gay."

 

The moment could have been disastrous had I not seen Joel's face when I said it. His parents just smiled sort of apologetically, as if I'd admitted to having cancer, but when Joel looked at me, I actually saw him raise himself a few inches, or so it seemed, because I'd been so brave, and the smile he gave me told me immediately that he was proud of me, and the look I gave him back was a defiant one; one that said: don't be ashamed of what you are. Of course, I was assuming that what Harry had told me about this boy being `as gay as they come' was correct, and not one of his silly jokes. But I think my assumption was correct, and just for once, Harry had been telling me the truth.    

 

**********

 

The Best Man speech had gone well. I'd had lots of time to prepare it, and the people at the reception really did laugh at some of the things I said about Harry, and it was only because his parents were sitting between us that my legs weren't black and blue from the kicks he would have given me as we sat at the head table. I also made sure to heap praise on his father, Brendan, for the sterling job he did for me (which was true), and on his lovely mother, Geraldine. Harry's new wife, Rosemarie, didn't escape my attention. When I said that she was amongst the two most crazy but wonderful people I'd ever met in my life, she gave me a really affectionate look. But the best I saved for after I'd said that. It was an ad-lib, and before I met young Joel, I would never have said it. But because something strange and wonderful had happened to me since I first saw him, I blew her a kiss, and said, "If I wasn't gay, I would have married you myself."

 

I expected embarrassed silence, but when Harry burst into uncontrollable laughter, the place laughed with him. Even my little Joel was giggling behind his hand. And when I continued, it was just as if it had never happened. But why shouldn't it have been? I was forty three, a very wealthy man, and unmarried. Never had been, and for those who knew me well, I never dated. So that meant that I was either asexual or gay. That's why I don't think my confession went down too badly. Those with half a brain had already worked it out. I knew there would have been a few bigots in the attendees, but I didn't give a shit about them. Being wealthy predisposes one to a certain arrogance: a position where one can look down on others if they disagree with you. So fuck them!   

 

During the meal and the speeches, I was able to take in all in front of me. Joel and his family were on the table to my front and left, with the rest of Rosemarie's family, which was quite an extended one. There were a couple of boys around Joel's age, but they weren't in the same class as my beautiful, well-dressed boy. After the speeches, when everyone was chatting, I noticed him looking at me. Our familiarity had grown, and we were able to do that without being too shy. My smiles to him were affectionate ones, and I knew his were too. We were becoming friends, and I think I knew then that the only thing that could come between us was propriety and adults. They were formidable obstacles. Dangerous ones, too.

 

**********

 

The Rock Group was in full swing when Harry grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the exit door. When we were outside, he linked my arm and we walked along in front of the parked cars. He said nothing until we came to the end of the cars where it was quite dark and away from prying eyes. Then he stopped and held my arms with his hands as he stared at me. "Are you alright?"

 

I nodded. "Yes. Why shouldn't I be?"

 

This was the serious Harry. "I'm proud of you," he said.

 

"Why?"

 

"For coming out. Why did you do it?"

 

I looked him straight in the eyes. "Why Joel?" I asked.

 

He smiled. "You've fallen for him, haven't you?"

 

I nodded again. "Yes. You knew I would, didn't you? Is he really gay? Does he really like me?"

 

Harry took my arm again, and we continued to walk around the circular, gravel drive. After a while, when he must have been thinking, he said, ""I've known Joel was gay for a while. I've been his confidante. He's exactly like I was. He likes older men. I thought you may have been too old, but when I told him about you and showed him the photos of you and me together, he said he thought you were wonderful." Harry was silent for a while, and then he said, "Joel was the reason you came out, wasn't he?"

 

"Yes. For some strange reason, he's affected me in a way I didn't think would ever be possible again."

 

"Possible again?"

 

I pressed Harry's arm. "Yes. After you, I never thought anyone could take your place. You were beautiful, too. The first time I saw you I fell in love with you."

 

Harry laughed. "The first time I saw you, I wanted to get in your pants, you sexy sod."

 

I laughed. "That's because you were a randy little sod from the beginning. I'll never forget that first day when we had it off in front of the fire."

 

Chuckles from Harry. "It's a good job that rug was a washable one. It was covered with your stuff after I'd raped you."

 

I giggled. "I didn't take much persuading. You don't regret it, do you?"

 

Harry drew us to a sharp halt, and stared into my face. "Don't be stupid! You would never have got into my pants if I didn't want you there! I loved you; I wanted you. I still do, but I know I'm too old for you now." And then he turned and continued walking.  When I caught up with him, he grinned at me, and said, "When Joel said he was gay, I nearly put the flags up."

 

I laughed. "Flags for a fag?"

 

That really tickled Harry, and while he was chuckling, he linked my arm again. "Do you believe in fate, Frank? I do. It's all in the stars. Everything that's happened in my life seems to have been put on a plate for me. When I was little and wanted a man, along came you, the best of the best, and now I've gone and got myself hitched to a crazy and loveable woman, along has come little Joel to take my place. That's if you want him?"

 

I chuckled. "He was in my bed while we were in church. I didn't get to fuck him, but I was almost there before you kissed the bride. I hope God wasn't taking any notice of me. I'm surprised he didn't strike me down dead."

 

Harry giggled. "You always were a joker. You sometimes used to make me laugh when I was on the vinegar stroke."

 

I hugged his arm. "That's because what we had was fun. I don't want a relationship without fun in it. That's why I'm worried about the Joel thing. His father isn't like yours was. He seems to be a bit of a bastard from what I've seen of him up to yet, and I noticed he wasn't too happy when I said I was gay."

 

"You're right," Harry said, "and it won't be easy getting you two together. For a start, you live miles apart. But you're going to have to work that one out by yourself. I'll help you as much as I can, but there's only so much I can do. I dressed him up for you so you'd notice him. Isn't he beautiful?"

 

"Yes. Wonderful. I've had butterflies in my tummy all day every time I think about him."

 

"Like you used to do about me?"

 

"Yes. Exactly the same. I'm excited for the first time in a long time."

 

Harry laughed. "Let's go back in then, and start work on getting you two together. I'll get Rose to help me."

 

"Rosemarie?"

 

"Yes. You know that she knows about us. I could never keep anything from her. Not the intimate details, of course, but she knows I've loved you since I was twelve. She knows I'm part gay as well."

 

"And doesn't it bother her?"

 

"No. We're both liberal minded. She thinks the world of you."

 

**********

 

It seemed as though my coming out had been a signal to others of the same persuasion. Almost an epidemic, I thought, when young man after young man sought my company. And a couple of old queers, too. But considering there were three hundred guests at the wedding, when I thought about it, the odds were that I would not be alone in my disposition. But none of them really knew my disposition of being a pederast and not a gay person. And I'd no intention of telling them either. Life is difficult enough without admitting that one is attracted to pre-pubescent or pubescent boys. I recalled the old Pashtun marching song: There's a boy across the river with a bottom like a peach, but alas! I cannot swim.  This situation was analogous to the old Pashtun song, and whereas they had a river to cross, I had social barriers and parents to break down. And those could be the least of my worries. In the ten years since I first met Harry, the whole debate about adults having under-age sex had intensified to paranoid proportions. Mostly media driven by a few control freaks, to touch a boy inappropriately these days could guarantee a prison sentence and a long stretch on the Sex Offender's Register. Just to get to my well-dressed boy would require more effort from me than one of the old Pashtun Warriors who could not swim, having to negotiate fast flowing rapids to get to the bottom like a peach.

 

But I was in love again, and love can do strange things to people. From my position by the bar, I looked across the room to find my new beau. The table he had been sitting at was almost empty except for a couple of old codgers grinning at the dancing hordes. I looked around the dance floor. His parents were doing the usual body motions of pretend-dancing, and little Wendy was with them. But no Joel. I searched the room. He was nowhere to be seen. Could he be in the gentlemen's toilets (restroom)? I left my drink and went to see if he was. No, he wasn't there. I returned to the dancing hordes. Still he was missing. Suddenly, a hand closed on my right arm. I turned. It was Harry. He picked up my drink, gave it to me, and said quietly, "Take a walk on the patio. He's waiting for you."

 

The moment he said it and I got up to go, I let out an involuntary, nervous sigh; my throat went dry, my pulse began to race, and I felt self-conscious as I walked across the room to the exit... one of those moments when you think the whole world is aware of exactly what you're doing: about to proposition a thirteen-year-old boy.

 

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 john.thestoryteller@gmail.com Genuine comments will be appreciated. All flames will be extinguished in the trash bin.