Date: Sat, 24 Jul 1999 04:49:53 PDT
From: andy macdonald <andymacdon@hotmail.com>
Subject: Two Minds . . . .

                 TWO MINDS WITH BUT A SINGLE THOUGHT.
                         by Andy Macdonald.

If you enjoy this story, I would like to know - it might encourage me to
write some more chapters!

You can contact me on andymacdon@hotmail.com

CHAPTER I.

My name is Andy - but you know that already!

I am 26 years old, my hair is thick and blonde and I'm not good at
remembering to go to the hairdresser so it is usually quite a bit
longer and thicker than is currently fashionable - anyway, I happen to
like guy's with long hair - I am well built, strong and fit.  I work
for a Merchant Bank as a dealer in the London currency market, I'm
extremely good at my job and I earn an obscene annual salary and can
expect a breath-taking bonus at the end of the year.  I drive a
Mercedes convertible which I love dearly.  I'm 6ft tall, weigh 145 lbs,
have a 30 inch waist and an unconventional and insatiable sexual
appetite (if I don't manage to get the "real thing" I usually have to
wank off at least twice a day; at night before I can get to sleep and
again in the morning to relieve my towering hard-on).  However, despite
all this I truly believe that I'm not a total asshole - it's just that
I have the potential to be one.

   My name is Michito.

   I am 22 years old, have black hair which is longer than most young
   guys wear it in my own country, am well built with a small wiry body
   which is well-muscled and fit.  I'm 5ft 6" tall, weigh 105 lbs, have
   a 26 inch waist and an insatiable sexual appetite.  I am a Japanese
   student studying in London.  I am very lonely because I do not know
   any Japanese people in London and because I am very shy and timid I
   find it most difficult to make any friends.  I also miss very much
   to be able to sail.  My father and my family spend much time in
   Japan in our yacht.  My father is a member of the Nippon Ocean
   Racing club and I love to sail with him and to be one of his crew.
   I think I am good man on the foredeck.

   I need to have much money to live in London; is expensive city.  So
   I work in the evenings in a Japanese restaurant which opened
   recently.  Very new, very smart place.  But I have one very big
   problem because I do not love women, only I love men.  I love very
   much the big strong British guys especially the men with blonde
   hair, I would like to be the friend of such a young guy who would be
   powerful for me.  I love to please a beautiful, strong hunky man.  I
   like a man who knows his own mind, knows what he wants and how to
   get it.  I wish that I was such a man, self- assured, confident
   strong and sexy .  .  .  ! Oh! I am so lonely in London.

It is Friday evening - at last.  As usual I had to work late and with
the volatile state of the Japanese market, we were all being kept on
our toes.  The Japanese market .  .  .  .  hmmmmm.  My thoughts stray
away from the interminable columns of dull figures on the monitor in
front of me, they wander across space to Tokyo where I'd recently spent
a wonderful holiday.  I'd met the cutest young Japanese guy ever in a
small bar, he'd been like a small sex-bomb when I'd got him into my
bed.  I just love those cute young Japanese guys.  Tough, beautiful,
smooth and hairless bodies with a sexual stamina that takes ones breath
away, or rather, leaves one panting with spent passion.

   Now it is Friday evening.  It has been a hard week of study.  Soon
   will come some exams and I must work very hard to understand my
   professor and to learn.  But now my thought can move away from the
   constant study.  I would like to spend a weekend in London and not
   think about my study.  I need to clear my mind.  Now I think about
   men.  The wonderful English men, strong, blonde and hairy and, I
   think maybe in great need of sexual release, a release that I could
   enjoy to bring to them and, at the same time to get huge pleasure
   myself.  I wish I will find myself in the warm bed of a sexy
   Englishman.  But I do not see many men like this, men who I desire.
   Not in the college nor in the restaurant.  Either young students
   like me or tourists.  No English hunks.  Rich, strong, powerful to
   sweep me off my feet.

At last, I can close down my monitors, tidy my desk and leave the
hubbub of the dealing room.  As I walk through the air-conditioned
corridors, out into the mall situated right against the tower block
where I work, my mind is still conjuring up pictures of that cutey I'd
met in Japan.  "Why not a Japanese dinner?" I think to myself.  I might
as well have a Japanese dish even if it's food rather than a cute young
guy! I remember that a Japanese restaurant has quite recently opened
somewhere in the mall.  I wander along, thinking .  .  .  Yes.  Up on
the second floor of the West wing.  I arrive outside and peer in, looks
good.  In I go and a smart young Japanese girl smiles at me.

"Table for one, please." I say.

"Yes sir.  Will this one be OK for you?"

"No, I'd rather sit over there, in the corner." I indicate a table in a
booth.  I sit down and open my Evening Standard, glancing automatically
at the pink pages.  I become engrossed in an article on the future of
the Yen and am only subconsciously aware of the second place setting
being removed and the table being re-set for one person.  I finish the
article and survey the menu.  All sorts of delectable Japanese dishes,
things that I'd discovered to eat and enjoy on my recent holiday.  As I
read, I can sense the waiter hovering.

   So now I can leave the college and walk through the fresh air out
   into the city, to catch the light railway train that takes me to the
   business area and the mall situated right against the tower block,
   to this new restaurant where I work in the evenings, my mind is
   still conjuring up pictures of those hunky studs who I know must be
   somewhere to be found.

   "Why do they not like Japanese dinner?" I think to myself.  I guess
   that they are not familiar with Japanese dishes even though they
   would be served to them by a cute young guy! I wander in through the
   rear door and go to the lockers where my waiter clothes are kept.  I
   strip out of my T-shirt and jeans, ugh, they're quite dirty and
   sweaty after being worn in college.  It is nice to get into my clean
   white shirt with short sleeves and the black trousers.  I'd managed
   to get a pair which fitted me very well.  Perhaps just a little bit
   too tight.  I had looked at myself in the mirror, tried to turn so I
   could see my back side.  Yes.  I think maybe I look sexy as a young
   waiter.  I comb my hair and go out into the main restaurant where I
   greet the Hostess.

"Haaa Michito, you look cute tonight," she said and my heart leaps.

"Maybe cute enough to catch Englishman", I think.

I glance outside and there I see peering in, a young blonde man.  He
looks good.  In he comes and the hostess smiles at him.

"Table for one, please." he says.

"Yes sir.  Will this one be OK for you?"

"No, I'd rather sit over there, in the corner." and he indicates a
table in a booth.  He sits down and opens his paper and becomes
engrossed in reading it.  I move to the table and remove the second
place setting and re-set it for one person.  While I am doing this I
look at the man.  He is a gorgeous stud! He is the man I have been
fantasising about for weeks.  His clothes look new, smart and of very
good fashion, very expensive clothes I think.  He puts down the paper
and picks up the menu.  As he reads, I wait with my pencil and pad to
write down his order.  His eyes are green, the colour of jade, he has
thick blonde eyebrows and long eyelashes.  I try to see lower down but
the table cloth is covering him.  Oh but such a hunk, why should he be
a gay guy.  He must have a wife waiting for him, two pretty children.
I always hope that such a desirable man will be gay and want me but it
is stupid to think so when it is so unlikely.  He looks like a straight
guy, he acts so strong, so straight.

I look up from my paper.  Straight into two beautiful almond-shaped
eyes, black as coals but bright and shining with interest and
intelligence.  Wow.  In a flash my mind travels back to that bar in
Tokyo, sees again the cute young man that I'd met there, sexy or what?
We'd done things in my hotel room that I'd only dreamt about doing,
some I'd not even thought of before but I sure wanted to try them
again.  Now I know that all Europeans think that Japanese people all
look the same, and I'm told the reverse is true too.  But this cute
young waiter is so similar to my holiday lover that it quite takes my
breath away.

I gulp.  He smiles and asks me what I'd like.

"You!" my thoughts scream.

"Umm.  Oh, right, yes urrrr .  .  .  " I gather my startled thoughts
and order the food.  My beautiful young waiter writes down the order,
turns and walks back to the kitchen doors.  My eyes lock onto his rear
view like the radar in a self-homing missile.  Small, stocky, perfectly
proportioned body with a narrow waist and a pert little bottom
emphasised by his slightly too tight, shiny black slacks.  Oh what a
cute and sexy little fellow! Oh but such a desirable young beauty, he's
bound not to be gay.  I'm sure that he's got an equally cute young
Japanese girlfriend somewhere waiting for him, possibly even a couple
of doll-like kids.  I always think that such a cute young guy will be
gay and will want the same thing that I desire but it is stupid to
think so when it is so unlikely.  He looks straight to me, he doesn't
act like a gay guy.  I can only wish because he's one of the cutest
little guys I've ever clapped eyes on..

   He looks up from his paper.  Straight into my eyes, I see now
   closely his beautiful green jade eyes, bright and shining and
   looking at me with an openness and with interest.  Wow.  He is
   gorgeous, just the kind of hunky man that I yearn for - so sure of
   himself, so confident.  I know that I want him from that first
   searching look He smiles at me as I ask him what he'd like to eat.
   He considers me thoughtfully.

   His mind obviously returns to the business of ordering food and as
   he speaks I write down the order, then turn and walk back to the
   kitchen.  It might be my imagination but I'm sure that I can almost
   feel his eyes lock onto my back I really hope that he likes what he
   sees.  I know that my bum is emphasised by my slightly too tight,
   shiny black slacks.  Oh but I wish so much that he just might be gay
   and that he just might fancy me because I think that he is
   gorgeous!!

My cute young waiter arrives at the table bringing several plates of
delicious looking food.  He places them gently on the table, sets them
out carefully and as he does so I notice his neat little hands,
long-fingered with finger nails that look almost as if they have been
manicured.  Surreptitiously I glance up and down his perfect young
body, trying to imagine how he would look without that well-fitting
shirt and those tight trousers.  His careful attention, his presence so
close to me and a combination of my inspection and lustful thoughts
lead to the inevitable manly arousal within my own slacks.  I wriggle
in my chair and furtively re-adjust my equipment to ease my painfully
trapped manhood, hoping that my discomfort will not be noticeable.  I'm
sure that this young man wouldn't be looking in that particular
direction.

   I arrive at the table of my hunky customer bringing several plates
   of delicious food for him to eat and place them carefully on the
   table, set them out neatly and as I'm doing so I glance at his
   beautiful strong body with its cool, expensive clothes.
   Surreptitiously I glance up and down his perfect muscly body, and
   try to imagine how he would look as I strip him slowly out of those
   clothes with my own trembling hands.  Being so close to him and a
   combination of my looking at him and the sexy thoughts I am having
   about his muscly body leads to a pressure in my trousers.  There is
   nothing I can do about it and I just hope that he isn't noticing my
   discomfort.  But of course he isn't looking at that private part of
   me.

The food is delicious and I'm really glad that I'd decided to check out
this new restaurant While I eat the young Japanese waiter appears from
time to time, hovers for a few seconds to see if I need anything.  I do
need something and he could provide it but what I want isn't on the
menu.  I want this cute Japanese guy!

   I think he finds the food is delicious and so is this British guy.
   While he eats I go near his table from time to time to see if he
   needs anything.  I know that I need something and he could provide
   it but I fear that what I want isn't available.

   I want this hunky British guy!

I finish my meal, get the bill, settle it leaving a large tip in cash
for my luscious waiter and go out into the mall.

I walk through the mall and down into the underground car park, get
into the car and drive home.  Once there I go up to my apartment and
after a quick nightcap, undress, shower and get into bed, but my mind
is spinning in high gear.  I can't get the image of that cute young
Japanese waiter, his strong little body, cheeky face, narrow waist,
perky bum .  .  .  .  .  my hand seeks my raging cock, my fevered mind
imagines that it is not my hand at all - his hand with its soft sinuous
fingers tentatively feeling my powerful organ, stroking softly up and
down the length of my steely shaft, softly caressing the urgent knob,
feeling, assessing, pleasuring.  My strokes become firmer, fantasies of
his willing body flash through my mind, now he is naked, on his back,
legs spread upwards and parted, his face begging, his bum offered.  I
am lying on my stomach, with my cock thrust against the mattress and as
my thoughts embrace the unknown cute young guy, my hips grind and my
urgent rod rubs up and down, my hips hump furiously and my penis leaks
pre-cum .  In my fevered mind I enter, dominate, plunge, penetrate.
POSSESS.  I shudder and thrust downwards in the grip of a powerful
orgasm, I erupt jetting gobs of my man-juice into my briefs.  I
immediately fall into a deep, satisfied sleep.

   I see my hunky Englishman get up from the table and I watch his
   tall, long- legged body as he walks out of the restaurant.  Oh but
   he is such a strong husky male.  I go to clear and re-set the table
   and see that he has left me a big tip.  Oh lovely guy.  Now it is
   closing time so I clear up my area, change back into my street
   clothes and travel back to my student lodgings.  I shower and get
   into my bed.  I can't sleep.  I can only think of my English
   stranger- friend.  Of how I would love to pleasure him, use all the
   sexual tricks that I know to make him shake and squirm and moan with
   lust, to work him into a male frenzy so that he must have me, enter
   me, possess me and drive his spermy life-force deep within me.  I am
   POSSESSED.  I am lying on my back with my legs spread wide apart and
   as my thoughts embrace this unknown guy, my hand grips my urgent
   rod, my fist flies up and down, my hips hump furiously and my penis
   erupts, jetting gobs of my man-juice into my briefs.  Completely
   spent I fall into a deep sleep.


CHAPTER II.

On Saturday morning I wake early and spring out of bed.  Great! I'm
going down to my boat to get a few last minute jobs done ready for the
start of the sailing season.  I'm proud of my boat.  She's a 40ft ketch
which I keep in a marina in Portsmouth Harbour.  I do a bit of racing,
nothing too serious, mostly just fun races like the Round the Island
race when over a thousand boats race round the Isle of Wight.  Some of
the guys from the office and a few other friends come and crew and we
have a great time.  I try to get at least two longer spells of holiday
so that I can sail down to the Brittany coast.  I like sailing
single-handed and the boat is fitted with a really great self-steering
system - it often manages to steer better than I do.

I have an easy drive down the M3 and spend a happy day pottering around
on board, the only thing is that I can't seem to get that cute young
Japanese guy I'd fancied in the restaurant last night, out of my mind.
He really had been a cutey-pants.

   On Saturday morning I wake early and climb out of bed.  I hate the
   weekend days because I do not know any friends and I do not know
   what to do.  I will study for most of the day before I have to go to
   the restaurant to work for the evening.  All day I think about the
   hunky Englishman with the beautiful fair hair that I watched last
   night.  Maybe he comes to eat again.  No, he did not come and I go
   sadly back to my lodgings.

   Already my image of him is fading but I do know that he is very
   beautiful.  I wish that he could be my friend - my special kind of
   friend.  Maybe tomorrow he will again come.  I can only hope because
   I would like to see him again.  Maybe this time I could get a chance
   to talk with him.

I spend the weekend on board and on Sunday take the boat for a quick
turn around the harbour to check out a few modifications that I've made
to the engine.  She goes well and having berthed her and tidied up I
climb into the faithful Merc and shoot back up the motorway.  I park
the car in the underground garage and go up to my flat.  I'm hungry
after my weekend in the sea air and I have absolutely no difficulty in
deciding where to eat - I really fancy some Japanese food!

It is very quiet in the restaurant because on Sunday not many people
are working.  Only three tables are in use and they are not my tables.
I wait.  Then! There he is!! My beautiful blonde Englishman comes in,
his face is glowing, he looks so healthy, he must have spent the days
out of doors.  My heart jumps for joy.  He is looking round the room
and now he walks towards a table.  Not my table.  What can I do?

"Here is a better table in this booth, I tell him.

"What? Oh, yea, right.  Yes, I'll sit here.  Thanks."

I look at the cute little waiter, delighted to see him again.  He looks
even better in the flesh than he had in my erotic fantasies.  I sit
down and pick up the menu that he's offering me.  As I read and as he
hovers nearby I surreptitiously check him out again.  Oh what a
cutie-pie.  I really would like to get to know him.

I decide on what I want to eat and he solemnly writes down my order and
walks to the back of the restaurant giving me the chance to check out
his pert little bum - which I could swear gives a sexy little wriggle
as he departs.  Soon he's back with the food.

"You came here on Friday," he says with a nervous little smile.

"Yep, I like the food and I like the scenery so I came back again to
check it out." I replied.

His smile grew broader.

"Where do you come from?" I ask him.

"My family live in Yokohama."

"You live here just now?", I enquire.

"For now I stay in London.  I study.  I have student lodging in
London."

He smiles at me again.  He has an intelligent, cute face and wonderful
high cheek bones.  Now he turns away and goes back to the bar area.  I
sense that he is shy and probably there is a rule against the staff
fraternising with the customers.  I start eating.

As I finish my starter he's back to take the empty plate.  He looks at
me shyly and says "You look very healthy, maybe you have good weekend
days."

"Yep.  I spent the weekend on my boat."

He stares at me.  His mouth drops open a bit.  Interest floods into his
eyes.

"You have boat? Sailing boat maybe?"

"Yes, she's a 40 ft ketch."

Such a wonderful looking guy and he has a boat .  .  .  .

My main course arrives and I enjoy it.  After I've finished I settle
the bill, leave a tip as before and get up to leave.  My waiter hovers.

"I, too, like boats." he whispers shyly as I leave.

I glance at him and was going to ask him more but he's scuttled off
back to the safety of the kitchen.  I suppose .  .  .  .  .

   "But how could I get to know him?" I think to myself.  Oh my.  My
   hero has a boat.  Oh how good it would be to get to know him.  For
   him to be a friend to me and to let me go with him to his boat.
   Even if he was ordinary man, not handsome and strong and
   kind-looking, I like so much to get to know him and have chance to
   sail again.

I have a hell of a week.  The Far Eastern market is very volatile and
there are fortunes to be made and lost on the exchange.  We all work an
obscene number of hours and by the following Friday I'm exhausted.
Tired of staring at monitor screens, yelling into telephones, snatching
too many cups of coffee and not eating enough proper food.  I can't
wait to get home.  I leave the office wondering whether I'll bother to
get something to eat before I go back to the flat.  Suddenly the image
of the sexy young Japanese waiter flashes into my mind.  It makes
itself up.  Yes I will stop for a meal.  A Japanese meal.

   Friday evening.  I'm tired from my studying during the week.  I do
   not want to go to work in the restaurant.  It is long journey and
   many noisy people.  But I have to do it or perhaps I will lose good
   job.

   Everything very busy and many people are eating, all happy people
   because the weekend is here and now they will be free for two days.
   No, three days because on Monday there is holiday in England.  Bank
   holiday they call it.  Everyone is happy and noisy and a little bit
   drunk.  I have to work very hard to keep all the people at my tables
   satisfied.  In the restaurant every table is used.

   Oh my! But here comes "my" Englishman.  I have no table that is
   vacant, there is no table anywhere for him.  He looks around.  He
   sees me and smiles, big generous smile but then he turns around and
   goes out.  Gone! My heart sinks into my boots.  I can't believe it,
   he was here and now he is gone again.  I am very, very sad.

Hell.  The place is full.  No tables.  Ah well, I'll grab a slice of
pizza on the way home.  I turn around and walk through the mall.  Pity
because I see my cute young waiter there.  He really is one gorgeous
little guy.

"Hey Andy, how's it going then?"

"Hi Jim, good thanks." It's an old friend of mine who works for one of
the other syndicates in our group and who sails with me from time to
time.

"Wanna sink a pint?" he asks.

"Yea, OK.  I'm feeling knackered and a few bevies might be good for
me."

I shake his hand, glad to see a cheerful face and we agree to go to the
Henry Addington, a popular pub reputed to have the longest bar in
London.  It's jumping, filled to capacity with start-of-the-holiday
revellers.  We join the throng and meet up with some other good mates.

   "Hey Nippon!" A drunken man shouts at me from one of my tables.  I
   have to hurry over and attend to him.  Horrid rough, brutish fellow.
   I not like him.  He has no manners.  The evening continues in a
   great rush until by 10 o'clock it is better.  Now there are only a
   few latecomers left in the restaurant.  Soon it will be closing time
   and I will be able to go home.  I wish that it I could really go
   home, home in my own country with my family, with my friends.  For
   the next three days everyone will be on holiday, all having fun.  I
   don't know what I will do.

I look at my watch.  Hey, it's 10 o'clock already - and I'm starving.
I remember that I'd been heading for something to eat when I'd bumped
into Jim.  I retrace my steps to the Japanese restaurant.

Our eyes meet the moment I walk through the door.  I see "my" waiter's
eyes light up as he spots me and I feel a surge of desire.  I smile at
him and walk over to what has become my usual table.

"I think you not come tonight, Sir."

"Yes, well I looked in earlier but the place was full.  Is the kitchen
still open?"

"Yes Sir, I can take your order now.  Kitchen is open until ten
thirty."

I order a meal and he hurries off to sort it out.  Very soon he's back
with the food and, as I start to eat; I realise that he is hovering
nearby, watching me.

"Bank Holiday this weekend," I say.  "Doing anything special?"

No answer.  I look up at him and see a small face filled with sadness.

"No sir.  I not doing anything special.  Maybe I study."

"Hey, you want to get out and about," I told him.  "The other day you
said you liked boats didn't you?"

"Yes Sir, I like boats .  .  .  .  " he trails off wistfully.

I know nothing about this young fellow.  But from the few words we've
exchanged I believe that I can tell that he is intelligent and
well-mannered.  Plus he has been the centre point of my fantasies and
my dreams since I first clapped eyes on him.  What the hell, Il take a
risk.

"I have a yacht.  The restaurant's closed over the holiday isn't it? If
you're not doing anything would you like to come down to the boat with
me? I hadn't planned to go anywhere and I don't have a crew but there's
a bit of work to be done, you might enjoy getting out of London.
What's your name anyway?"

He gasps, his sad face suddenly comes alight with excitement.  "My name
is Michito, your name is Andy I see it on your credit card, I would
like very, very much to come with you to your boat.  Do you really mean
I can come, it would be the nicest thing that has happened to me since
I came to England."

This all came out in a torrent of words.  Michito stared at me with a
mixture of hope and excitement.

Before I could say a word he babbled on: "I will not be nuisance, I can
see that you are tired, I work hard on your boat, I not annoy you."

"Hey, hey Michito, if I thought that you'd be a nuisance I wouldn't
have asked you.  Now, if you'd like to come I'll meet you somewhere
early tomorrow morning.  Let's see now.  Do you know Earls Court tube
station?"

I don't know the station.  But I will certainly find it "Yes, I know."
I say.

"Right, well I'll meet you at the Warwick Road entrance at 8 o'clock
tomorrow morning, OK?"

"Oh yes Sir.  8 o'clock.  Warwick Road station."

"No you goof.  Earls Court station, the Warwick Road entrance not the
Earls Court entrance OK? And my name is Andy, remember? Call me Andy,
OK?"

"OK I meet you there 8 o'clock, Si .  .  Andy."

   I am shaking, both with excitement and fear.  Excitement at the
   thought of maybe having at last found a friend, of getting out of
   London, of being in a boat again, of the possibility that my sexual
   longings might be fulfilled and of not knowing the place where we
   were to meet tomorrow.  He pays the bill, leaves a large tip as
   usual, shakes my hand and is gone!

   I clear up my area, get changed and go back to my lodgings.  My mind
   is in a turmoil.  Earls Court Road, Warwick Road, Station Entrance.
   It is SO important for me to get this right.  Back at my lodgings
   everyone is already in their rooms.  There is no one that I can ask.
   Oh I want this to happen so much.  It would be so terrible if I miss
   Andy.  I go to bed with my mind in a turmoil.  I do not sleep at
   all.  At 5 o'clock I am wide awake and I get up and get dressed.  I
   fill my back-pack with some clothes for sailing and my washing bag.
   I go into the underground station and look on the cash machine for a
   ticket to Warwick Road station.  Now I nearly panic.  I cannot find
   such a station.  I ask an official.  He laughs at me.

"Earls Court station Mate," he says.  "Earls Court station, that's what
you want.  On the District Line.  Change at Embankment."

Oh dear.  I don't understand.  I will miss Andy.  I will be late.  I
will be in the wrong place.  He will not want to wait for me.  I will
lose this new friend so soon after I have found him.  I will be lonely
still.

   I know how to get to Embankment and I get onto the train.  Once I
   get there I stare at the map of the underground system.  I see Earls
   Court station and I manage to find the right platform.  Soon the
   train arrives at Earls Court and I get out and I go to the main
   entrance and look at the street.  I try to remember what Andy said.
   Ah.  There is a transport official.

"Excuse me, Sir, what is the Wembley Road entrance?".

"Wembley Road? mate.  Don't know what you mean.  Do you mean Wembley
Station?"

I don't know what I mean.  I want so much to be with Andy.  now it is
nearly 8 o'clock.  I'm sure that he will not wait.  We will not meet.

"Do you mean the Warwick Road entrance?" asks the man.

"Yes, yes, the Warwick Road entrance" I gasp.

"Well you can't go through the station now, ‘cos you've already passed
through the barrier.  So, go out through this entrance, take your first
left and left again at Warwick Road, OK son?"

"Thank you yes," I answer and set off in the direction he has
indicated.

Now I only have five minutes and I am still not sure what I am looking
for.  My heart is pounding with fear and disappointment.  I hurry down
the small side road until it comes to a very big road full of traffic.
I look to the right, I don't know what I hope to see.  There is a huge
building across the street, "Ideal Homes Exhibition" it says.  I look
to the left.  There is another underground station there.  Earls Court
it says.  I don't know what to do.  Miserably I walk towards it.

"Hi here Michito!"

Parked just by the station is a Mercedes convertible.  Inside is Andy!
I have found him!! I am in time to meet him!!! I am so happy, I am so
relieved.  I am shaking all over my body.

The two young men did meet up.

Will they enjoy their three days together on the yacht?

Will they become friends and lovers  .  .  .  .

To be continued!

andymacdon@hotmail.com