Date: Mon, 13 Feb 2006 18:27:09 +0000 From: Andrew Gardner Subject: Being Here 5 This story is written as personal experience... although not mine! However, the names of those were involved have been changed to keep the identity of those who experienced this secret. In addition, although this story is set in Edinburgh, Scotland, most of the places mentioned are fictional. Because I have lived in Scotland all my life, and you reader are probably American, some things i.e. trousers should be pants, or whatever you call them. All rights to this story are mine so no copying or publishing without my consent! P.S. Sorry for the delay! I have been really busy, but don't worry! There is furious writing going on and I will definitely be keeping up with `Being Here' more now! PREVIOUSLY ON BEING HERE: "Hey Trevor, guess what? There is a cool party tomorrow night at some dude's house. I am going cos it is a gay party. R u joining me? I will pick you up at 8pm if you are. Love and kisses. Scott. XXX" Oh great. A party that is the social event of the year, or my first gay party! A party to get a girlfriend that would advance me socially, or a party that I would get a boyfriend? What was I to do? My sticky shorts stuck to me just like this problem; it was one I would have to decide upon right now, which would no doubt have amazing or terrible consequences. Chapter 5 I felt a sudden nudge as I sat gazing absent-mindedly out of the window. The view, a forest, was majestically verdant. Surprising, for this area was on the outskirts of the second biggest city in Scotland. There was a scene of greed in modern day Edinburgh; architects anxiously attempting to expand on their already enormous empires; residents resoundingly recalling to their families about how much their house has appreciated since being purchased. However, despite this bliss, it wasn't all happy thoughts for Edinburgh. People monopolized the city centre; and even the oldest and most proud buildings of Edinburgh were being shamed by being destructed deviously by planners, greedily wanting to put up new apartment buildings. David and I went into what locals call the `Old Town' yesterday, and I noticed paradoxically that buildings here were actually newer than those not in the new town. There was also a certain amount of frank brutality; a sense that for those that wanted to capitalize in Edinburgh or move into these pleasant new houses, the time was too late. There has always been a truth about the old riddles spoken by old Scots from the past: "Edinburgh doesn't welcome outsiders." The nudge I felt had taken me out of my daydream. The cup in my hand flew away like a jet plane and landed face down on the cream carpet. No one noticed or attempted to clean it up; in fact, it was almost like nobody cared. I looked at the guy who nudged me to see that he must have gone up to one of the bedrooms upstairs with his significant other of the night. Apparently, this mansion I was in had over fifteen bedrooms. However, this didn't seem nearly enough for the number that had already excitedly traipsed upstairs. I stood up, difficult enough due to the fact the seat I was in was right behind a dancing group, who all seemed to want to dance or molest me as I feigned sickness to go outside. The owner of the house was Chris Bradford. Well at least he was hosting the party. I was invited because I was in a relatively popular crew at the same school as him. Of course, his parents could afford to send him to a private school; why they were currently in Dubai apparently, working up their oil company. I knew various people at school whose parents actually worked for him. That's why I thanked the lord that my parents were doctors and not in the business world. Chris was no where to be seen, however, at this point. I guess he had retired to the master bedroom for the night. However, I doubt his parents would be happy if they returned at this very moment. The grass in front of their house was like an affluent beach resort, with couples and singles lounging around, despite it being late at night. The front door was broken and there were piles of sick around the house that rivaled even the European Union's surplus food supplies. (If you don't live in Europe, you probably won't understand that. If you are European, no extra explanation is required!)Meanwhile, various paintings had already been destroyed or broken; one painting also had been defaced to look like lesbian sex! I stood outside, trying my hardest to look as though I was enjoying myself. I knew for a fact that I would never be going to a party like this again; it was almost as though I knew beforehand that coming to this party was a bad idea. I practically knew nobody here. Nonetheless, it had been an interesting experience. It had taught me I didn't like big parties at all! Earlier in the evening, a guy had come up to me and asked me to go outside. The minute I got outside he started kissing me! I kissed back, caught up in my own lust and desire, before realizing that I as kissing a woman! Or was I? Yup, I had mistaken a male from a female... I think! I quickly ran off, excusing myself to go to the loo. After that, I vowed to check first to check the gender of the object of my lust! However despite this, I was having a terrible time. It seemed like wherever I went couples were kissing and some were even having sex. I couldn't even go through a crowded room without being groped or wolf-whistled at. I got my cell phone and dialed in a number. "Hello," came a husky male voice that I knew very well. "Hi dad," I said anxiously, "look, I... I need a lift home." "Home," he said puzzled, "but Trevor, it is only ten past nine on a Saturday night!" "I know," I said, trying to sound weary and tired, "but this party stinks. Literally!" I heard my dad laugh. "Well, if you are sure son," he said pleasantly, "I should be there in about five minutes." And with that, he hung up. From that, I made my way out of the house and to the place I knew my dad would arrive. At that point I wondered what it would have been like if I'd have gone to the other party... surely things would have been more fun. I promised David I would go to his party, but I promised Scott I would go to his. And I knew I had broken one promise at least. My father's car couldn't have come any sooner for me. I felt like I was in the desert, and no matter what happened no one would give me any of their large supply of water. I felt like an old house in the Old Town of Edinburgh. I felt like my days were numbered. But thankfully, someone came and restored me, and my father restored me to the proud building I was; standing in the Old Town like I had been for three hundred years. Alas, my savior wasn't Prince Charming not Princess Charming either. My father was my savior. Hi guys, sorry for the large delay. I had lots of education to catch up on and lots to do. Don't worry though, I am on half-term break and so should write three or four installments. Oh, and I plan to write another story soon. In the planning stages, it is called `Trust'. Hope you enjoyed the recent part of `Being Here'. You might have noticed I never mentioned which party Trevor was at. Don't worry, that comes in part six!