Date: Wed, 28 Oct 1998 21:33:08 -0000
From: Storyteller_2@Yahoo.com
Subject: Wim in London Part 6

I have had comments on the previous story that it was a bit slow to start
off. Please remember these are stories with a beginning a middle and end
and a sexual content. Threads are purposely woven into them for other
related stories to be posted at a later date.

I would like to thank all the readers who have E'mailed me and Nifty
Archive for posting them.

In the story that follows all the people and sexual parts are pure fiction
and should be read as such. It does not mean the author promotes/agrees
with sexual activity between mature men and teenage boys. Some of the other
stuff is factual, Well The City of London is still there, aeroplanes fly
and you can get a good meal in the City or the West End.

If you are not of a legal age in the area you live, it is against the laws
of your Country to read material like this or you are offended by
homosexual behaviour, man/boy relationships etc. etc then go away and read
the works of Captain Pugwash and if you do, don't forget Seaman Staines!


Part 6

It was a lovely Spring day, very little wind and quite warm for the time of
year.

"Can we go for a ride." Wim gave me one of his pleading looks that he knew
I couldn't refuse.

"Well it is getting on for lunch time but--" I paused to keep him on tenter
hooks, "--but I know of a nice Country Pub about 30 miles outside London
that do a super bar meal and it has a smashing atmosphere. Want to go?"

He went into his trampoline mode.

"Oh, YES, PLEASE."

We threaded our way through the traffic and pulled on to the M40 going
West. I could tell that he was comfortable with being on the back so I
opened the throttle and edged up to 70 mph. He was still relaxed and was
riding like he had been born on a bike. We came to the slip road which took
us on to a single track country lane.  I slowed the bike down to about 55
and just enjoyed leaning it round bends. Wim was in sync. He followed the
bike, we were riding as one.

We pulled into the car park of the local hostelry. It was a quaint old
English Pub built in about 1790. Thick black beams supporting a low
ceiling, polished horse brassed fixed to the beams with a couple of crossed
brass and copper Post Horns over the bar.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," the inn keeper greeted us. "Soft drinks?"

"Please," I said, "no booze on a bike, but you have two hungry chaps here.
Have you a table for two vacant?"

He gave us the menu and Wim ordered a lemonade and I had a tomato juice and
Lee and Perrins Worcester sauce. We were shown to the table. We had an
excellent meal. Home made pate on hot toast, Irish stew and a fresh fruit
salad to round it all off. Whilst we were having the meal Wim was in his
overdrive mode in questions about the bike. I told him I would give him the
handbook to read when we got home.

"How fast were we going on the motorway?"

"70 mph, that's the legal limit, why was I going to fast for you?"

"How fast can you go without being done by the cops?"

"Are you trying to make me break the law, young man."

"Yes."

"You little sod. To answer your question the Motorway Police ignore
speeding vehicles up to 10% of the legal limit, so that means I could do 77
mph and get away with it."

"On the way home will you push it a bit then?"

"We will see."

We had a coffee and those super thin chocolate mints and made for the door,
after paying I hasten to add. It was about 1530 and the Motorway traffic
going into London should be light so maybe Wim might get a quick blast
after all.

I pushed it a little quicker down the country lanes cranking the bike over
more than 45 degrees, just waiting for a dig in the ribs to slow down. None
came!  We entered the slip road on to the M40 and it was almost as clear as
a bell. I moved out to the 3rd. lane and slowly opened the throttle. At 65
mph I tapped his knee. I got a quick tap back. I must get an intercom, both
helmets had provision but I had never needed one before. I flipped open the
throttle and the bike leaped forward. This did get a reaction. Two hands
came round my waist and I heard a voice yell "YIPEE". So much for him being
frightened. The speedo climbed to 101 mph and I closed the tap. I let it
coast down to 75 mph and kept getting digs in my ribs. I ignored them and
they stopped. It took about 35 minutes to get home. I pulled up in front of
the garage and switched off the ignition. He leaped off, undoing his
helmet. The grin on his face lit up the whole of the street.

"Keys please, I'll put the kettle on whilst you are putting the bike away."

I gave him the keys and corralled the steed.

When I got in the house he had the kettle on, the pot out, and the tea
ready to be brewed. He had removed his M/C kit and was waiting for me in
the hall.  He helped the poor old man remove his boots and the rest of my
kit and then proceeded to smother me in kisses. The kettle boiled and he
rushed off and made the tea and then came back and continued with the
barrage of kisses. I asked him to slow down or he would blow a fuse.

The first words he said and I knew exactly what they were going to be,
were,

"How fast did we go?"

"Well you can tell all your friends that you have done over 100 mph on a
BMW K75S, actually you need not tell them it was just 101 mph, it sounds
better if you say over 100 and you are not telling any lies."

"Now what is it you say, "I'm between a shit and a stink", I don't know
which I like best Carting or riding on the back of your bike."

I went in to the office and dug out the handbook on the bike and gave it to
him to read.  He went into the lounge and started reading. I poured out two
mugs of tea and took his through. His nose was buried in the book. His hand
moved around till he found the tea and his eyes never left the printed
page. Oh well if I want to keep him quiet give him some motorcyle books to
look at. I went into the office and rang the motorbike shop.  They had an
intercom in stock so I got them to put it to one side and said I would pick
it up the following day. They said if I brought the helmets in they would
fit FOC whilst I waited. The bike had a special plug and socket already
fitted so it would only take about 10 minutes. I noticed the little green
light was flashing on the answer machine.  Now what does June want now I
wondered and pressed the play button. It wasn't June is was Wim's father
talking in Dutch!. Wim must have heard it and came rushing through just as
the message finished. He looked at me, his eyes like saucers,

"Play it again, please."

I did. He listened intently. The message was short. All I got from it was
Wim and Kris, the rest was double Dutch to me! Wim looked at me with that
apprehensive look in his eyes and said,

"He wants me to show you the letter and then give him a ring to know what
you say. He says it is urgent!"

He put his arms round my waist and hugged me very tightly.

"We were going to open it tomorrow anyway but now I'm afraid. There are
butterflies in my tummy. With what we have been doing today I had
completely forgotten about it."

I took the letter from the desk drawer.

"Let's go into the dining room and use the table. You can sit next to me
and read what ever is in there at the same time as I do."

He never said a word but just put his hand in mine and we went and sat down
at the dining table.

"Go on open the fucking thing, for God's sake, open it."

It was the first time in all the time that I had known him that he had used
a word like that. It just showed how this blasted letter had been eating
into his brain. I wondered if his father did it on purpose as a
phycological torture knowing how much he despised my poor little Wim. I
tore open the envelope and took out the contents.  The first bit of paper
was a letter to me. It read :-

Dear Mr. Hammond,

You may recall our conversation about the way I feel about Wim. What you
should know, and I have included documentary evidence of the fact is, that
Wim is NOT my son. Please see the enclosed birth certificate. You will now
realise because he is not mine and that he caused the death of my beloved
wife, the even greater reason for my hate of the child. I know it is not
the boy's fault but it still does not alter the fact and I cannot come to
terms with what happened. His biological father was killed in a car
accident on the way to the hospital in which my wife was giving birth to
his son.  He had agreed to look after the child as soon as my wife left the
maternity unit. When my wife found out just after Wim had been born she
made me promise to look after him till he was 18. For my wife's sake and
her memory is the only reason I have put up with him for so long.

One of the things he has said in many of our violent rows that if he found
someone who he cared for he would run away with them. I have always told
him that I would make sure he was brought back and until he was 18 he would
have to live with me. If he had other relatives I would have got rid of him
sooner. You should also be made aware that he knows nothing of this and, if
you do not intend to look after him, do not tell him any of this.

In the ten days you stayed in the hotel, I saw the biggest change in the
boy I had ever seen. When I asked him why, he told me it was none of my
business. I could see by the way he looked at you that he had found that
someone who he wanted to run away with.  You also seemed to be taken with
the child and hinted that you would like to look after him. I thought it a
good idea to let him come and live with you for a little while to see if
you still felt the same way after putting up with him continuously day and
night.

I thought that if things went well between you, I would change my mind
about making him stay with me till he was 18. I do not know what the legal
situation will be but until I know what your decision is I will not put it
in the hands of my legal advisor.

The other main thing that you should be made aware of is that my wife was
the sole owner of this hotel. When she passed away she had made a Will. The
Will states that, and you will see a photocopy enclosed, that the ownership
of the hotel is divided equally between Wim and myself. He is not eligible
for his half till he is 18 and it is held in trust until that date.

The day after you left I had an offer from a multi-national hotel chain to
purchase the Hotel. It is a very generous offer and providing I could
release my responsibility to Wim it would allow me to do something that I
have wanted to do for many years now. I could move abroad and purchase a
hotel of my own, not shared with a kid, and manage my own business. On this
point I have talked to my legal advisor who informs me that it would have
to be with the boy's agreement. What would happen to the cash raised would
have to be a matter of agreement with who ever was looking after the boy as
I would not take him with me. As it is at the moment he has some cash
invested from his mother's life insurance which brings in sufficient to
feed and clothe him so if you did take him on then you would not be out of
pocket. I have told him to give you this letter on the day he returns which
will give you the maximum time with him to allow you to make your decision.

Yours Sincerely,
E. Van der Valk.

I noticed Wim was not reading the letter with me. He just held my hand
tightly and had his eyes closed.

I read it again. Wim just sat there not daring to say a word.

I looked at him and said,

"You should read this. Some of it you know and some you don't. Some of it
may hurt you and, if it does, remember I am here to comfort you and give
you all my love."

He said with a tremor in his voice, "Before I read it please tell me, will
I be able to come and be your "Son".

I gave him one of my biggest smiles and said "Yes, My Son, you will."

He leaped across the room in one bound. His arms flailing like a helicopter
rota blades coming to rest round my chest. There were tears streaming down
his cheeks mixing with the mucus running from his nose. I pulled out my
handkerchief and wiped his nose and gave him a big hug. He buried his head
in my neck and kept saying over and over again,

"Hello, my new Dad, I love you very much."

"You had better ring him and tell him the outcome, but before you do I
think that you should read the papers."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, you do, and before you ring Amsterdam."

I gave him the letter and pulled him on my knee to hold him close and give
him a comfortable feeling. He read the letter and then read it again. He
picked up his birth certificate and read that twice. I hugged him closer.
He gave me one of his loving kisses and said,

"Sod him, he can sell the bloody hotel but I want everything I can get out
of it. He isn't going to get one penny more than he is entitled to. He
never told me that I owned half of the place or about the money that is
invested in my name. I bet there is more coming from the investment than he
has spent on me."

I realised how he felt but I warned him not to judge him without the facts.

"Now off you go and give him the good news."

He booted up the computer and dialled Holland. He left it on hands free so
we could both hear and speak should I need to. Van der Valk answered the
phone.  Wim told him that he was on a loudspeaking phone and that I was
there and he did this in English. Van der Valk came back to him in Dutch.
Wim stopped him dead and announced if he didn't speak English he would hang
up and see him on Sunday night. I was amazed at Wim's composure. He was
calm, didn't raise his voice and was very matter of fact. This was another
Wim, and I was proud of him. Basically what he wanted to know was I going
to take care of him and did Wim agree to the hotel being sold as the buyers
wanted an answer by Friday. Wim looked at me and I told Van der Valk that I
would be pleased to take responsibility for Wim and I would set in motion
the legal process over here if he did the same over there. I didn't tell
him I had already started it over here. He then said that Wim had to be in
Amsterdam on Friday afternoon to sign some papers. Would it be possible for
both of us to come over either Thursday night or Friday morning. I said if
flights were available we would be there on Friday morning. We would fax
him the details as soon as we had them. Wim intervened and said if there
was nothing else he was going to hang up as the call was costing us a
fortune.

He said no, there was nothing else and Wim cleared the call.

"We will go on Friday, flights permitting," I said. "That gives me time to
contact George."

I looked at the time, it had got to 1600, George might still be in the
office. I rang his number, again from the computer so Wim could hear what
was said. We just caught him and I gave him the news.

"Bloody good show, old man'," he said. "Good job I've got the papers ready
for your signature. I'll have them biked over tonight."

"You don't let the grass grow under your feet do you?" I said amazed.

"Well, you old sod, I know what you are like when you get a green light,
you want things done yesterday," he laughed and said, "and these were drawn
up yesterday. See you," and he hung up.

I rang British Midland and checked the first flight available on Friday.
There were places on the one around 0910 getting into Amsterdam about 0940,
the hour difference working in our favour. I booked the tickets and
arranged to pick them up at the BM's LHR desk.

Time now 1625. Either I was speeding up or Wim's time machine was running
out of gas! I looked at him as he came and sat on my knee.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" I said seriously.

"Why do you say that, don't you want me now!?"

"Now who's being silly? Of course I still want you. It is a big step.  You
will be leaving all your friends, going to a new school, living in a
different country, not talking your native language; a very big step."

"I have thought about it, a lot; a great lot and, yes, I'm sure I want to
ahead with it. I've been speaking nothing but English now for 6 days, I've
been learning English for 3 years and even you said I was becoming
bi-lingual. Friends are where you make them. I will miss Henk and Paul, but
I'm sure you will not mind if either I go over there or they come here in
the holidays, mind you thinking about it, I would sooner that they came
over here cos I would miss you too much." The other reason, the main
reason, is I love you and you love me, and I don't want to be parted from
you for more than a few hours."

I gave him a kiss on his cheek and another hug and the door bell rang.  Wim
dashed to the door and a motorcycle courier gave him a package and told him
he had been instructed to wait to take them back to the Inn's of Court. Wim
invited him in and asked if he wanted a cuppa. Whilst they were talking --
yes about bikes -- I read the documents and the covering letter from
George.  Read this, sign against the pencil crosses etc. I did everything I
was instructed to do and ran the papers through the scanner on the
computer. I could print them off later. The guys were still in deep
discussions on the merits of a shaft over a chain drive. I gave the Courier
the package and he left.

We were just stood in the hall looking at each other. He was at the kitchen
door and I was at the office door. It felt like a bit of an anticlimax. Wim
walked slowly across the hall, took my hand and led me upstairs.

"I want to lay on our bed in your arms and be hugged and kissed and hugged
and kissed and hug--"

"Okay, I get the idea, anything else?"

"No, not really, well maybe a bum feel and a penis squeeze, but not a full
blown session.  I just want to be held by my new Dad."

"You are on," I said, "and when we have had enough we will get up and have
dinner out."

"That will be lovely," he said kicking off his shoes and pulling me on top
of him.

I kicked off my own shoes and slid down to his side, one arm under his neck
and the other on top of his waist. He mirrored the position. Our lips met,
just brushing together, no pressure. We parted them and our tongues tickled
end to end. I felt his hand move down and undo my trouser top and stop. I
did the same for him. He slipped his hand over my hip and stroked my
bottom. I did the same to him. I could feel him come to a full erection
which matched mine. We simultaneously moved our hands to the front and each
gripped each others penis. We went into a squeeze, release, mode with our
tongues entering each others mouth on the squeeze and pulling back on the
release.

"Did you say we were going out to eat when we have had enough," Wim
whispered.

"I did," I replied.

"Then we will die of starvation," he giggled, "because I can never get
enough."

He pulled his hand out of my pants and sat up.

"I'm hungry," he cried.

"So am I."

We made ourselves presentable and went downstairs.

We drove in to Richmond to a nice Chinese and had a blow out. Bits of this
and bits of that, lots of this and lots of that. I'm not a lover of plain
or even fried rice, I like my rice in puddings with butter, sugar and
cream, but Ho Fun is fabulous. For those of you who haven't had it, try it
instead of rice with any meat dish. Wim had never tried it but was
converted immediately. What is it? I don't really know, it is a bit like
vermicelli, a pasta in flat lengths but the flavour and gravy is super.

The time caught up with us yet again 2230 loomed up and we left to go
home. An uneventful journey home. I put the car away, Wim opened up and
locked the door as I came in.

"Let's go to bed, Dad," he said and made his way upstairs.

I checked the office for any messages, none, good and followed my Son to
bed.

Only one light at my side of the bed illuminated the room. Wim was in bed
and dead asleep, a look of pure contentment on his face. The poor kid had
had a traumatic day.  I slid in between the duvet and the sheet and turned
out the light. He again sensed my presence even though he was deep in the
land of nod and just cuddled up. I cradled him in my arms, kissed the top
of his head and joined him in oblivion.


Thursday.

I got a dig in the ribs and a big wet kiss on the lips and a squeeze of my
morning hard-on.  All these sensations at once caused me to wake up much
too quickly. I slapped his backside quite hard. He loved it and gave me an
even bigger kiss. Even though I had just had a rude awakening I couldn't
help giving a matching kiss.

"Love you, Dad," he said. "Good morning, and it is a good morning cos I'm
yours now."

"Good morning, Son," I said clamping my lips round a cigarette he had put in
my mouth.

"You must remember nothing is signed sealed or delivered yet and when we go
back to Amsterdam don't call me Dad in front of your father."

He lit my cig. and said with some venom, "He is not my father and never
was, you have been more of a father to me than he ever was. You don't think
there will be any problems with the guardian bit, do you!?"

"No, I'm sure there will not; but, until the Dutch authorities and the
English law system has signed all the papers, it is not official."

"How long do you think that will take? And can I come and live with you
before the papers are signed? And will I be able to go to school over here?
And can I change my name? And what will happen with the money? And--?"

"Stop, stop, for heavens sake stop. I haven't even had a cup of tea yet and
all these questions all at one go is too much for me to take in."

"Oh, I'm sorry, but I'm so excited. I'll get up and make the tea. Are you
coming down for it?"

As he was disappearing through the bedroom door I said with a grin, "What
do you mean, am I coming down for IT!"

He yelled back, "The tea, you silly old Dad -- oh, I don't know though!"

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, fag in mouth, mind in neutral,
the only thing I didn't have was my thumb up my bum! I had already forgiven
him for my rude awakening, but oh how it put me off my stride. I don't know
how long I sat there but a voice from below called out,

"Come and get it, tea I mean."

I smiled, how do they say in novels, "a wan smile" and pulled on a bath
robe removed the sheets from the bed and made my way down to the kitchen.
Tea and toast was waiting. I drank the tea like an alcoholic drinks a pint
of booze, down in one go. I felt better immediately. Wim poured out my
second mug which I savoured.

"It's another nice morning," Wim said, "what are we going to do today?"

"Well, you can get your motorcycle kit ready, we are off to get an intercom
so we can talk to each other when we are riding. I want to talk to George
to see what happens next and maybe he can answer some of those questions
you fired at me this morning before I was compos mentis."

"Compos mentis?! What does that mean?"

"Latin, it means before I got my scattered wits together, and after that we
will play it by ear."

"Right, that sounds fine, I'm off for a quick shower are you coming?"

"Get it going I'll follow you in a tick."

You can't smoke in the shower so I finished the cig and joined him.

"I've nearly finished, there is only my back to do," he said handing me a
bar of soap. "Will you do it for me please?"

I stepped under the shower head and got wet and soaped his back. He leaned
back against me rubbing the soap suds over my front. He took the soap and
lathered me all over, no face cloth just his hands. He was good, bloody
good, and I just stood there enjoying his gentle touch. I pulled him close
to me and turned his head upwards, my hands sliding down his back to hold
his buttocks. Our lips met, his hands flew to the back of my head and
pulled me hard to his lips.

"Gurgle, suck glugove you," he said, his lips never leaving mine.

I broke the kiss and said, "It is rude to talk with your mouth full."

He giggled, hugged me tightly and let the water rinse our bodies. We got
out and finished the 5 S's. He, as usual finished first and dashed upstairs
to get dressed. I followed and waited till he was on his way down before
putting on my thermals. I didn't want to be a laughing stock again.

We got on the bike and rode into Wembley, passed the twin towers of the
famous Wembley Stadium, which Wim shouted he had seen on TV when the Cup
Final and England football team played their International games. He was
quite excited. I had seen it thousands of times and never even thought
about it. Cricket and Tennis are my games, Soccer isn't a game anymore it
is a business.

We arrived at the motorcycle showrooms and Wim went crazy. Over a hundred
new, gleaming bikes of all shapes and sizes. I told the guy who owned the
shop who he was and he said I was mad. Didn't I have enough with Phillip. I
told him to "button it" or when Wim needed a bike I would go elsewhere. He
grinned and gave the helmets to one of his mechanics who had already tested
the intercom. Brian, the guy who owned the shop called Wim over and handed
him an armful of motorcycle posters and bumph sheets. I told him to go and
put them in the top box, he could look at them later and to get off a Honda
Goldwing as I wasn't going to buy that one for him.

By the time he had got back the helmets were finished and we were shown how
to use the intercom. It also had an FM radio built in with a voice
activated microphone so when you talked it muted the radio. Quite good
really. I asked if the radio could be switched of and was shown the
controls.

Wired for sound we got on the bike and started the journey home. Wim kept
up a constant chatter asking about this building and what road we were on
etc., etc. I wondered if it had been a good idea to buy this thing. There
was always the off switch but I liked to hear him chatter away.

"Let's go for a blast up the motorway again?" he pleaded.

I chose a route round the M25 to the M3 across through Bracknell and on to
the M4 and back down to home. The M4 passes Heathrow and is on the doorstep
of the house. No 100 mph this time but the odd 80's here and there and I
could now at least tell him where we were and what speed we were doing. We
drove into the drive. Without him asking I gave him the house keys and I
put the bike away.

By the time I got in the house he had the kettle boiled and the tea made.
He was in his trampoline mode.

"There is a message in the answer machine," he said.

"Who is it from?" I asked.

"I don't know I haven't listened to it, can I?"

"Yes, of course."

Whilst he was in the office I poured out the tea and he came dashing in to
the kitchen.

"It's from George, he says will you ring him he has some news."

"Did he say what type of news, good or not good."

"No, but I've booted up the computer, do you want me to ring him?"

"Yes, off you go."

I heard him talking to George's secretary and then George's voice. I stood
at the office door waiting to see what he did next. I was as pleased as
Punch at what he said.

"Hello, Sir, this is Wim. I'm returning your call. You asked Kris to ring
you so he told me to get you on the phone."

"Morning, George," I said.

"Are you on that blasted loudspeaking, bloody computer again, and it is
afternoon," he complained, " I see you already have the young man trained.
I'll make it brief. I got the papers you signed and have put the wheels in
motion. I've got a friend of mine who is a Judge looking at them. I've been
in touch with Van der Valk by phone and fax and got his Legal guy's name and
address. I've sent him a fax of the paper work and told him to get his
finger out. Things could be sorted, if he has any pull, by the end of next
week.  Now as you will be over there you can sign any paperwork they need."

Wim interrupted, "Does that mean I could be Kris's by the end of next
week?"

He held his breath.

"I don't see why not," George replied.

Wim went ballistic.

"I wish you hadn't told him that George, it will take me the rest of the
day to calm him down."

"Does he always go off like that?" he said.

"You haven't seen the half of it," I grinned.

"Well, that's your lot for now. talk to you both later. Bye," and he hung
up.

With tears streaming down his cheeks, a grin as wide as a mile, his arms
round my neck hugging me tight, he said - yes you have guessed it,

"I love you and I'm HUNGRY."

"Can you type?" I asked.

"Sort of, why?"

"Well, whilst I prepare something to eat, you fax Amsterdam with our flight
times."

"Yes, I think I can do that."

"Right well off you go then."

"Food cooked, either a very late lunch or not so early dinner, faxes sent
we relaxed in front of the TV for the 2100 hrs. news.

"God, this day has gone like a rocket," Wim said.

"We've got to get our things ready for tomorrow and you have got to put
clean sheets on the bed. I suggest we have an early night, Agreed?!"

"Agreed," he said, "and I won't even put a beach towel on the bed."

That set the tone for the rest of the evening. We packed, I arranged a cab
for the morning, Wim put on a complete clean set of bedclothes and we hit
the sack. I set the alarm for 0630. We just cuddled up together and kissed
each other goodnight and went to sleep.


Friday.

Well here we were at 23,000 feet. My prospective Son and I, sat side by
side in a First Class seat, the plane was full and we had been upgraded for
free.  Neither off us pissed off, both as happy as sandboys. I had a G&T
and Wim a fruit juice and we were unashamedly holding hands. The Air
Hostess asked if my son was a bit nervous and he said he was petrified but
his Dad was comforting him and he gave me one of his beautiful smiles with
those perfect teeth that lit up the whole of the First Class Compartment.

The End of Wim in London.


The story will be continued with "Back in Old Amsterdam" should you
want it to be!

Storyteller 2

Comments can be made to Storyteller_2@Yahoo.com thanks for posting the
story.