Date: Mon, 07 Feb 2005 19:41:53 +0000
From: Jeffrey Fletcher <jeffyrks@hotmail.com>
Subject: Two Jubilees   ....Part 38

This is a story that involves sex between males.  If such a story is
offensive, or illegal for you to read where you live, then do not continue,
go and surf elsewhere.

This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific
person or persons.  If there is any similarity to any real persons or
events it is entirely coincidental.

The work is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any
form without the specific written permission of the author.  It is assigned
to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it
may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written
permission of the author.

My thanks to John and Michael who have read this through and made a number
of corrections and suggestions.  Any remaining errors , grammatical,
spelling or historical or whatever are entirely my fault.

Thank you to those who have commented on my stories.  If you want to
comment on the story then do contact me on Jeffyrks@hotmail.com.  I  aim
to reply to all messages.

Two Jubilees and One Spitfire.  Part 38.

Resume:-  The Plateau.

Many of the old fairy stories end with the set phrase, `and they lived
happily ever after'.  This rather implies that nothing interesting or
exciting happens after the couple have been through a wedding ceremony.
But the old phrase does have an element of truth in it.  The biggest and
most rapid changes in our lives are in usually in the first twenty five
years. From the moment of birth we are on a rapid process of physical and
mental growth.  Those early years see our discovery of who we are, and the
truth of our inner being.

This can be especially true, and sometimes painful, for many of those like
Trevor whose sexual orientation is not that of the majority of the
humankind. Much of what we are going to end up being and doing for the rest
of our lives is decided in those early years.  Trevor's early years were
more tumultuous than for many.  The war, the loss of his parents, National
Service saw to that.

For many the middle years of life are a sort of plateau.  For many once
married, having set up home, settled in a steady job with going to work
every day, life just goes on.  For Trevor the sight of Ross naked on that
beach in the beautiful cove east of Whangarei marked the beginning of the
plateau of his middle years.  The pattern of life they had established in
the four and a half years of living together in New Zealand was resumed,
with the necessary modifications, in their life together in England.

On the fourth of June 1969 Trevor celebrated his thirty seventh birthday.
He was no longer the slim youth of his teenage years, or the young man of
his twenties.  There was a thickening of his body.  Though he weighed less
than a stone heavier than he had done at the age of twenty.  His hair was
still brown, though there was a marked retreat from his forehead and
thinning on his crown.  In fact it was when making love on his thirty
seventh birthday that Ross had cried out in shock, "Trevor!  Trevor!"

"What on earth is the matter?"

"You've got a grey hair.  You're getting old, my love."

"Well, if I'm getting old, you must be ancient, positive geriatric, you've
got a lot of grey now."

They argued about whether the first grey hair was a harbinger of the end or
not for several minutes, before resuming making love.

And what of Ross?  His face was slightly more lined than it was.  This made
his nose seem slightly more prominent.  His hair was grey around his
temples.  His eyes were still a light blue, and showed much love, and much
fun, even when arguing with Trevor.  His essential intimate parts were also
in perfect working order.

Their love making was good.  Perhaps not as frequent as five years before,
but every bit as meaningful.  But here is the dilemma for anyone writing
their story.  Because life was good for them both, and their love making
good, because they kept to their agreement, the Blenheim Concordat, it
would be boring and a vain repetition to give repeated accounts and
descriptions of their love making.  ***

Chris and Ian, the couple they had met at Stonehenge, did come up to stay
with them for a weekend.  Trevor and Ross made sure that they had as good
time as was possible.  They knew little of London so on the Saturday
afternoon there were a few hours sight seeing.  Trevor and Ross brought
them breakfast in bed, and did so in the nude.

"We usually wander around in the nuddy this time of year," explained Ross,
" And you've seen us both already without our kit on, so why not?"

Chris and Ian were just a few years younger than Trevor and Ross.  Their
gratitude at the end of their short stay was over overwhelming.

"I hope you will come again," said Trevor.  "We don't have many visitors,
we'll be hurt if you don't ask to stay again."

Chris and Ian had been somewhat surprised how easily both their folk
accepted their weekend in London.  No questions had been asked before or
after their visit.  It now became a regular thing, three or four times a
year.  There was never a foursome with them.

***

Trevor had kept in contact with Greg and Mark, who he and Kundi had
originally met at Nottingham University, and had rented thirty-seven.
Chelmsford Road for a year or two.  As they were living not far away in
Walthamstow, they would go out for a meal or drink together, or go round
for a meal.

Isaac came for a fortnight at the end of August.  It was a part work, part
pleasure visit.  He was eager to meet Ross.  Trevor went to London Airport
[See footnote] to meet him.

Trevor spotted Isaac as he came out into the concourse.  He looked quite a
bit older.  His hair was almost totally grey, his face was more lined, and
he walked with a decided stoop. Trevor worked it out, Isaac would be 56 at
his next birthday.  They gave each other a quick hug, to the casual
glancing onlooker it may have looked like a father and son greeting each
other, as in some ways it was.

"I'm looking forward to meeting Ross, Trev.  Photographs are all very well,
but are only part of the picture."

They laughed.

"Nervous?"  asked Trevor.

"A bit."

"I know he is.  He's getting the meal, and worrying his guts out that it'll
be okay."

"What have you been saying about me?"

"I've told him your standards are impossibly high, especially when it comes
to cooking; you'd argue the hind leg off a donkey; and you used to thrash
me at least twice every week when I was young."

"I think only the second is true," replied Isaac with a laugh.  "I know I
ought to have thrashed you.  I might have beaten some of that irrepressible
cockney cheek out of you!"

They both laughed.

They arrived back at thirty-seven at an inopportune moment.  Ross was hot
and flustered as he had nearly burnt some onions he was frying.  The
introduction was brief, and it was half an hour later when they sat down to
eat that the atmosphere began to relax.

"It's good to meet you at long last, Ross," said Isaac.  "The Adonis from
the Southern Seas that has won the heart of this cheeky cockney I had mercy
on, and gave a home to, many years ago."

"I'm glad you did.  I have been working hard to continue the work you
began.  It must have very hard sorting out that cockney urchin."

"I had to explain to him there was a letter aitch in the English alphabet,
and when he took his clothes off not to throw them in a heap on the floor."

"You did well there.  Even when we are desperate to make love, whether
here, or somewhere like the middle of Stonehenge, he carefully folds his
clothes and leaves them neatly.

The next half hour was spent totally at Trevor's expense.

"When you two have finished," muttered Trevor.

They retired to the front room for coffee, and sat talking for a couple of
hours.

For two weeks there were now three argumentative men in the same house, so
it was sometimes two against one, or more often one against one, with the
third like a tennis umpire keeping the score, 15-0, 15 all, 15-30!

One afternoon Isaac spoke to Trevor when the two of them were alone.  "I've
been to the see the solicitor."

"What about?"

"I have made the house completely over to you.  It is now fully and
completely yours.  You know we have both had half shares in it, well I
decided the time had come for it to be completely yours.  It seemed wrong
to be half mine when you and Ross were living in it.  You've been making
all the big decisions about it since you came back from New Zealand."

"What can I say, Isaac?  It is steadily going up in value.  Thank you."  He
went over and gave Isaac and big hug and a kiss.

"I'm not exactly poor, Trev.  When I shuffle off this mortal coil most of
it'll come to you.  A little will go to Joseph's brood, and to friends in
Israel.  Most comes to you.  Since 1944 I've always regarded you as my son
and heir."

"Thanks again.  But look after yourself, I don't want the responsibility
for your stocks and shares until I am old enough and wise enough to manage
them."

"Quite a number of them are the result of your advice and suggestions."

Isaac slept in Trevor's old room, the middle bedroom, Trevor and Ross slept
together.  Trevor was never to sleep or make love to Isaac again.  The
break had been gradual, and the last time not remembered, unlike that first
time on the afternoon of 2nd December 1943.

***

On Saturday 7th March 1970 Trevor and Ross were at home.  Saturday was the
usual day for a later than usual start, for housework and shopping.  They
had just finished breakfast when there was a ring at the door.  Ross went
to the door and collected a small parcel from the post man.  It was
addressed to Trevor.

"There's a small parcel for you," called Ross, through to the kitchen where
Trevor was doing some washing up.  "It's from Nigeria."

"It must be from Kundi.  It is good to hear from him at last."  Trevor had
been following the news from Nigeria for several months.  The south eastern
corner of the country had declared itself independent from the rest a
couple of years or so earlier, and was calling itself Biafra. No other
country recognised the break away state, and there was a civil war in the
region.  He knew that Kundi came from the south west, and not from the
Biafran region, so he presumed that unless the fighting got really out of
hand he was safe.

Ross handed Trevor the small parcel.

"I wonder what he has got to say for himself."  Trevor opened the parcel.
Inside was an old book, with a stained cover.  Trevor immediately
recognised the book as the copy of Alfred Tennyson's In Memoriam which he
had given Kundi on that warm August night nearly ten years before.  A
letter fell out of the book on to the floor.  Trevor bent down to pick it
up.

In silence he read:- Dear Trevor Russell, You will be sorry to learn that
my husband Kundi was killed by a landmine in Biafra two months ago.  As you
may know the terrible fighting is almost over, and Kundi was asked to go
and see to the installing of some new equipment at a power station, which
was in a part of the country that had been occupied by the rebels.  It is a
great shock to us all.  He always used to read a bit from the book before
going to bed.  I knew you had given it to him.  About a week before he died
he said to me, `If anything happens to me, will you promise to send this
book back to England, to Trevor.'  I am sorry that the cover is stained, I
do not know how that could have happened.  He often used to speak about
you, and I know that you were very good to him when he was in England
studying.  We miss him a great deal.  He was a good father.  Life will be
hard for us without him.  Yours sincerely Adetutu Akinola.

Trevor slumped into a chair.  "His dead," he cried.  "Kundi's dead, killed
by a landmine."  He handed the letter to Ross to read.  He clutched the
book, and then as the tears poured out held it to his forehead.

Ross knew all about the vivacious Kundi.  He had seen photographs of him,
especially the one of him tucking his shirt into his trousers in that field
in Sherwood Forest after the first time he and Trevor had made love.  Ross
knelt beside Trevor and held him close.

Trevor turned and put his arms round Ross, and continued to sob.  "The
world seems a darker place without Kundi."

"I know," said Ross.  "I felt much the same when Stephen was killed in that
accident."

"But it was far worse for you, my love," responded Trevor.  "I have you,
you had no one."

Ross got to his feet and went into the kitchen and produced that panacea
for such times, a cup of tea.

It was a subdued weekend for them both.

Just before going up to bed on the Sunday evening Ross picked up the book
and examined it.  "Pity the cover is so stained."

"It was deliberate."

"Deliberate?"

"Yes.  We were in bed.  In the old bed, upstairs in the front bedroom.  It
was our last night together.  We didn't sleep much!  I gave him that book
as a present.  We were losing each other and Tennyson says, --"

Ross joined Trevor in saying the words, "It's better to have loved and
lost, Than never to have loved at all."

"He asked me to put some of my spunk on the cover, as a perpetual memento.
I did.  That stain is my spunk of ten years ago."  Trevor began to cry
again, and Ross came and held him close.

An hour later the two of them lay in bed, arms round each other.

"I've been thinking, Ross.  I want to do something to help Adetutu, Kundi's
wife.  I think things will be very hard for her.  I think I would like to
pay for the education of their children, and help her a bit.  What do you
think?"

"I think that's a wonderful idea."  Ross gave Trevor a soft kiss.  "You're
a good man."

"So are you."

"I think I feel slightly guilty about Adetutu.  Kundi was really into men.
If he'd not had to go back to Nigeria we'd have stayed together.  He didn't
really want to marry, but it was expected of him.  He said she was a good
woman, and I think he came to love her."

Trevor then started talking about all the good times with Kundi.  He told
Ross some of the ways Kundi had teased Betty Bamford and Heinie.  He told
about Kundi's giggles, and those early times visiting stately homes.  He
told him all the jokes about the size of Kundi's dong.  Many of which Ross
had heard before, but he still listened.

"How would you remember me?" asked Ross.

Trevor hardly paused, "As an argumentative, awkward old Kiwi!"  Trevor got
no further as he was immediately squirming around on the bed trying to get
free of Ross' tickling hands.

When that stopped Trevor continued.  "Seriously.  There are so many
memories, our first times near Whangarei.  Tane Mahuta and Stonehenge.
What you wrote in the copies of your books you gave me in Auckland. I would
remember you for your pins in maps, and for being my perfect man, in spite
of being a Kiwi!"

That final remark let to another bout of tickling.

"Love you, Ross!  How would you remember me?"

Ross thought for a moment.  "I think the same incidents.  For the way you
always fold your clothes, for your love and care of me, and above all for
this."  With he grabbed hold of Trevor's cock and gave it a good squeeze.
"It is the most perfect prick, and I love every bit of it, and its two
attendants, and everything about its owner."

They began to make love; but then Trevor stopped and started to speak.
"When I first came to live with Isaac we put up that old Spitfire that
Harry made over the bed.  We often thought of Harry looking at the two of
us, and approving of what we were doing.  I'd forgotten that until tonight.
I hope you don't mind, my love, but tonight I think I would like to think
of Kundi watching and being here with us. He was very glad when I told him
all about you.  We often made love here, though not in this bed. This bed
is ours and ours alone.  But this room has memories of Kundi as well as
Isaac.  I can almost hear him giggling as I say all this."

"That's fine by me. Love juice poured out in memory of Kundi then.  By the
way I'd like to give something to Kundi's widow too.  He, in his way,
helped to make you who you are."

Their love making was gentle that night, and they both felt there was a man
from Nigeria in the background, giving an occasional giggle.

***

Trevor's work at the LSE went well.  He enjoyed lecturing and tutoring.
The requests for articles or book reviews were frequent.  He was asked to
take workshops and seminars in various places, and usually went to Germany
and France once or twice a year.  Often Ross went with him, paying his own
way.  This meant that a map of Europe had to be bought, and pins stuck into
it.  Trevor's book on New Zealand was published and sold well, especially
in Britain and New Zealand.  The money he earned for that more or less paid
for all the work he had had done on the house.

Ross's travels across the Pacific and the States helped him in his writing.
He found he took about eighteen months to two years to write a book.  His
books were popular and well reviewed.

In November 1969 Ross received an invitation from his publisher to a wine
and cheese evening.  The invitation also extended to his wife.  He showed
the invitation card to Trevor.

"What are you going to do about it?"

They talked it over, it was a matter for discussion, far too important to
argue over.

Ross showed Trevor his reply.  "Thank you for the invitation to my wife and
me to the wine and cheese party on the 16th December.  I am not married,
but may I bring the man with whom I live?"

Trevor looked at Ross, and grinned.  "We'll see what happens."

A few days later Ross received a reply saying that they did not feel able
to extend the invitation to `the man with whom you live'.

"Fuck them!  Bloody lot of bigots!" shouted Ross.  "If I was not at a
crucial stage with them publishing my next book, I'd go to another bloody
publisher."

At the end of the summer term Trevor received an invitation from the
Principal of the LSE inviting him and his wife to a reception for staff.

It was now Trevor's turn to explode.  "They all presume a man must be
married."

He wrote a similar reply to the one sent earlier by Ross.  The next day
there was a note in his pigeon hole.  "Dear Doctor Russell, I must
apologise for the loose wording on the original invitation, it was totally
out of court - an oversight on my behalf.  You and you partner will be most
welcome.  I look forward to meeting him."  It was signed by the Principal,
underneath was a hand written, "You will not be the only same sex couple
present!"

Trevor and Ross went to the reception with some trepidation.  They soon
spotted three other similar couples, two of gay men, one lesbian.  When the
Principal's wife discovered Ross was from New Zealand she talked to him at
length as she and her husband were going out there for six weeks to visit a
daughter.

"Well, that ordeal wasn't so bad," said Ross as they came away.  "You Poms
are not all a nation of narrow minded bigots after all."

"Yes, but things have really degenerated, allowing colonials to such
receptions."

"You wait. I'll fuck your arse sore when we get home!"

"Good!  It's itching with anticipation," said Trevor, giving Ross one of
his irresistible grins.

In the summer 1972 Ross' parents came over for a two month visit.

When they arrived they were shown around 37 Chelmsford Road.  When they saw
the maps on the walls of the work room, Alan, Ross' father, asked what they
marked.

Ross and Trevor looked at each other, blushed slightly and laughed.

"You may well ask," said Ross.

"They mark the places where the bed springs have creaked," added Trevor
with a broad grin.

It was Ada and Alan's turn to laugh.

"You've been at it like bloody rabbits," said Alan.  He looked closely at
the map of New Zealand.  "There are no bed springs there, or there."  Alan
pointed to Cape Reinga and the Waipoua Forest, where Tane Mahuta stood.

"He was using the term bedsprings as a euphemism," said Ross

"What! For a bloody good fuck?" replied his father.

There was more laughter, and a slight protest about the language from Ada.

"They seem to be all right, don't they Ada.  If they're still sticking pins
into maps, then..."

"Yes, Alan, and we don't want any double entendres or an inquisition into
Ross and Trevor's love life, not when we've just arrived," said Ada.

"And remember this is our house, and Trev and I don't want to be kept awake
by your creaking bed springs," added their son.

"Spoil sport, why do you think we've come away for a second honeymoon?"
said Ada.

There was more laughter.

Towards the end of their stay Ada and Trevor had one of their heart to
heart talks.

"Ross seems to have settled over here.  He seems very happy," said Ada.

"I think we are.  We still argue, as you've heard.  But deep down we are
very happy with each other.  I think getting our personal life right, has
helped both of us with our work.  Ross says the writing is easier.  I don't
think I've heard of a serious block since we met near Whangarei."

"Haven't you.  That's a real change.  He used always to be complaining of
getting blocked.  He was like a bear with a sore head when it happened.
But what about you?" asked Ada.

"My work is going well.  I am being asked to do all sorts of new and
interesting things.  I find I am travelling more.  Fortunately we can
afford for Ross to come with me.  He can write in Paris as well as he can
write in Leytonstone.  So we can both be working at the same time, and also
try to get in a bit of sight seeing.  Most of the continentals welcome him
as my partner, more so than people over here."

"And so more pins get stuck into the map?" said Ada with a smile.

"Yes."

"And whose idea was that?"

"Your son's."

"I thought so."

"How's Alan?  He seems to have lost some weight since I was with you down
under."

"Yes.  I've noticed that.  Neither of us are getting any younger."

"A life time seems to flash passed.  I am getting on for forty.  That'll be
over half way through my allotted span of three score years and ten."

"Alan and I are both over that now."

"Maybe.  But you don't look it."

The visit of Ross' parents was a great success.  Sometimes just Ross went
with them, and other times Trevor was able to join them.  They saw a lot of
Britain and also something of France and Italy.

***

Trevor celebrated his fortieth birthday on Friday 4th June 1972.  Ross
organised a birthday party for him on the following day.  Isaac had come
over from Israel, and Chris and Ian came up from Wiltshire.  Greg and Mark
came.  There were some other gay friends.  Paul was invited, and after some
hesitation about going to an otherwise all gay party, he decided to brave
it.  He made mutterings about Daniel in the Lions den, and Christians in
the Coliseum, but he ended up thoroughly enjoying himself.  He found
himself caught up in several theological discussions about why the churches
seemed to be becoming increasingly anti-gay.  One or two of Trevor's
friends had suffered from hostile `Christians'.

Ross' present to Trevor was a month's holiday in Greece.  This was a
country they had not yet visited.  They began by visiting some of the
classical sites.  They had a few days in Athens seeing the Acropolis and
visiting the museums.  Both thought the ancient Greeks had the right idea,
and admired the statues of naked men.

"They must have been gay to carve a young man's bum like that," whispered
Ross.

"They're almost as good as yours."

"Mine is past its best.  I noticed that the other day.  Age is creeping
on."

"I still love it, and its owner," said Trevor, giving Ross' buttock a
surreptitious fondle.

They went to Corinth, and Mycenae.  Ross had more of a classical education
than Trevor, so he appreciated visiting the reputed home of Agamemnon and
Clytemnestra.  At Olympia they began by trotting down the two hundred and
ten yards of the stadium, but ended up in running in competition.  This
Trevor won, but Ross argued he had let him win, as a part of the birthday
present.  This was argued over intermittently for the rest of the day, and
then bantered about for the rest of the holiday.  However they were both in
agreement that the ancient rules ought be kept - no women spectators, and
all athletes competing in a gymnatic state [Greek gymnos - naked].  They
both spent sometime in the museum and especially gazed at the Hermes of
Praxiteles. They crossed over to Delphi and fell under the spell of this
ancient sacred site. In the museum they admired the bronze charioteer, and
the usual collection of male statues.  They then went to the island of
Santorini were they spent three days.  Ross thought the volcanic activity,
a few wisps of hot sulphurous steam, in the middle of the cluster of
islands very tame after all the volcanic activity to be found in New
Zealand.

The final fortnight of their holiday was spent exploring Crete.  An uncle
of Ross' had been killed in the fighting there during WW2, and Ross wanted
to visit his grave.  They hired a car and explored.  They went to Knossos,
and other ancient sites.  They also did the tour involving walking down the
Samaria Gorge, and being picked up by boat at the seaward end.

Their last week was spent in a small village on the south coast.  On their
first evening they learnt from another couple of male English tourists that
there was a secluded beach a few miles along the coast where almost no one
went.  The next day they followed the directions they had been given, and
parked their car.  They clambered down a rough path to a tiny cove.  A
small stream ran out into the sea, and there were a few trees and tall
growing rushes or grasses in the valley.  It was an idyllic spot.  They
looked around.  The only building sight was a small Greek Church, with its
tiled roof and small dome, situated on hillside overlooking the cove.

They quickly stripped off their clothes and ran down into the sea.

"This is warmer than at Whangarei," shouted Ross.

"And much, much warmer than the North Sea," added Trevor.

They went to this beach every day.  Sometimes they were the only people
there.  Some days there were a few others, and all sunbathed and swam in
nakedness.  Usually the others were male, but on one day there were a
couple of women.

On the final day of their holiday they had the cove to themselves.  There
was a small note of sadness that their time away was coming to an end.  The
next day would see the flight back to England, to London, and to work.

Their bodies had acquired an all over tan.

"I don't think I've ever seen you so brown," said Trevor.  He got the
camera out and took a photo.  "That's for your Mum and Dad.  To show them
what a hedonist you are."

"Let me take one of you, for Isaac."

They sprawled on the rug together soaking up the sun.

Trevor reached across and got hold of Ross' hand.  "Thank you, Ross, for a
wonderful holiday.  I think the impossible has happened."

"What's that?  You've realised that I've been right about everything all
along?"

"No, certainly not that!  I think I love you even more than I did."

"Thanks for that, Trev."  Ross looked across at Trevor's crotch and saw a
movement.

Trevor saw where Ross was looking, and that made the movement irreversible.
Trevor's cock struggled to its feet, and as they watched the glans began to
push through the foreskin into the light of day.

"I love watching that happen," said Ross. His own cock was beginning to
respond.  "Place for a pin?"

Trevor nodded and wriggled closer to Ross.  They kissed and put their arms
round each other.  They moved closer and cock met cock, old friends who had
met so many times before.  They rolled around on the rug.  Once they rolled
off but they found the pebbles too hot, and with a `owtch' from Trevor they
rolled back on.

"Have you brought the necessary?" asked Trevor.

Ross nodded.

"Good man.  How?"

"You on your back, and my sitting on that lovely cock of yours.  The final
instalment of my birthday present to you."  Ross reached into the bag, and
brought out a small bottle with some olive oil in it that would act as the
lubricant.  "I'm sure the ancient Greeks used olive oil when they did it."

"Is that why there are so many ancient olive groves?" asked Trevor, with a
look of innocence on his face.

Ross bent over and kissed him.  Then he took hold of Trevor's cock and
placed the tip on the entrance to his inner sanctuary.  Slowly he moved
down, and Trevor's cock slide smoothly into the place it knew so well.

"How many more years do you think we'll be able to keep on doing this?"
asked Trevor.

"Well into our eighties I hope.  We'll do it, with all our aching bones,
and wrinkled skin when we are ninety."

"I hope so.  I do hope so."

The hot sun added to their ardour.  It was a dry heat, so any sweat quickly
evaporated.  Both knew how to make it a prolonged experience.  The only
sounds were the gentle lapping of the sea a couple of yards away, and the
gurgle of the stream as it made its final way to the sea.  Ross' internal
muscles caressed Trevor's cock which in turn softly rubbed across Ross'
love spot.

Few words were spoken, but very much was said with eyes and smiles.  Both
knew something of just how much they were loved.

Ross was in complete control.  With great care he worked the two of them to
a simultaneous climax.  Ross shot his spunk out on to Trevor's chest and
stomach.  Trevor's was deposited deep within.  They collapsed into each
other's arms.  The sun still shone, and the spunk dried and became thin
translucent flakes.  Eventually, and with reluctance, they untangled
themselves.

"Now for a swim," said Trevor getting to his feet.  They ran across the hot
pebbles and plunged into the sea.  They swam out quickly racing each other,
had a short spluttering argument as who was the faster, and then turned and
swam slowly back to the beach.

"You know what I'd like to do?" said Trevor.

"Not another shag?"

"No, you one track minded Kiwi.  I want to go up to that church."

"Whatever for?  It's bound to be locked.  They always are."

"It's looked down on this little cove for donkey's years.  It has watched
over us, and kept us safe while we've been here.  I bet there's a path from
the church back to where we've left the car."

"If you insist."

They put on their shorts and the shoes they had worn, and clambered up
towards the church.  It was further and harder than they thought.  Ross
complained the whole of the way up.

The church backed into the hillside, but from the front they turned and
looked down on the beach below.

"We've come up quite a way," said Ross.

Trevor turned to try the door.  Much to his surprise the latch turned, and
he was able to push the door open.  It creaked, as it had obviously not
been opened for some time.  They went in.

It was a small church.  Most of the light came in through the open door.
The windows were small, narrow and dirty.

"Place could do with a good clean," said Trevor.

"They are only used about once a year.  On the particular saints day.  Then
a lot of people come.  Otherwise it is not used," explained Ross.

"How do you know that?"

"Guide book."

Their eyes began to adjust to the relative darkness of the church.  They
could make out the simple iconostasis.  There was just one door in it, not
the three to be found in larger churches.  They saw the icons that were on
the iconostasis and on the walls.  They looked up and saw a the usual
painting of the Pantocrator in the dome.  The icons were simple.

"What are they of?" whispered Trevor.  The building was casting a spell of
awe over them.

"They're usually Bible stories or saints lives."

They began to look more closely.

"That one's of Jesus riding on a donkey into Jerusalem, isn't it?"  said
Trevor.

"That one's of Jesus healing the centurion's servant," said Ross.  "I like
his armour."

They managed to identify several more of the icons.  They stood close
together looking round.  Trevor reached out and took hold of Ross' hand.

"I feel something of what I felt with Tane Mahuta, and Stonehenge," said
Trevor.

"Me too."

"This is the third time something full of meaning has happened to us in a
holy place.  This is at the first Christian place."

"With no sex," said Ross.

"What do you think we were doing down on the beach, addled Kiwi brain?"

Ross just squeezed Trevor's hand.  No further words were said.  They stood
for several minutes.

"I wish...." said Trevor.

"What?"

"....Oh, never mind."

They turned with reluctance and made their way out of the church.  They
were now dazzled by the sun that shone in their faces.  They did not
notice, until he was fairly close to them, that a Greek Orthodox priest has
walking up the path to the church.  He was dressed in his traditional black
robes, and was wearing the distinctive head gear of the orthodox
priesthood.

"Kalimera," [Good day] he said.

They both said "Kalimera," in reply.

"You English?"

"Yes," said Trevor.

"I studied and worked in Manchester for several years."

"As a priest?"

"Yes.  There is quite a Greek community there.  I tried to look after their
souls," the priest said, with a smile.  "I liked my time in England."

"This is rather different from Manchester," said Ross.

"Much quieter.  But I like the bustle of Manchester.  It's as hard to pray
here as there, though hard in different ways.  Where do you live?"

"We live in Leytonstone, a suburb of London." said Trevor.

"Together?"

There was a moment's hesitation and a quick look at each other.  "Yes,"
they both replied.  Any blush was hidden by their sunburn.

"You sounded as though you come from Australia," said the priest.

"No!  I come from New Zealand," protested Ross.

"Oh dear.  A Kiwi! To call a New Zealander an Aussie is, ..... what do you
call it?  A faux pas!"

They all laughed.

"I'll forgive you, Father," said Ross.

"How long have you lived together?"

"Eight years," answered Trevor.

"You have something good going between you.  Something special?"  The last
two words were said in a way that conveyed to Trevor and Ross that the
priest knew the nature of their relationship.

"Yes, Father," said Trevor, slightly apologetically, looking down towards
the ground.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of.  For you it is natural and God given.
I can see from your eyes that you have great love for each other, that is
good.  I know several priests who are like you, and quite a number of
monks."

"You don't condemn us?" said Ross.

"No.  Not at all.  The early church used to bless relationships between two
people of the same sex with a special service."

Trevor looked up at the priest sharply.  "Did they, did they really?"

"Yes.  It is something the modern church tries to forget.  Why?"

"When we were in your church, I had this feeling, that I'd like some
prayers to be said for us.  We love each other.  We are committed to each
other.  We keep just to each other.  We're as good as married.  But neither
our church or our countries will recognise the fact, or help us in any
way."

"I have not got a service book.  But would you like me to say some prayers
for you both in the church?"

Trevor looked at Ross, who nodded, and then turning to the priest said,
"Yes, please."

They went back into the church.  The priest made them stand together.  He
took their right hands and held them together.  First he prayed aloud in
fluent Greek, and then in English.  "God our Father, Lord Jesus the Son and
the Holy Spirit of God, I thank you that you have brought these two men,
Trevor and Ross, together, and given them a great and profound love for
each other.  Watch over them all their days, guide them in all they do, and
give them your love and peace in their hearts. Amen."  He increased the
pressure of his hands on theirs.  "Bless you both."

The three of them stood in silence, and then the priest bowed to them and
smiled.

"Thank you, Father," said Ross.

"That's the third time, Father, that something wonderful has happened in
holy place.  Once was in New Zealand in front of a tree the Maoris call
Tane Mahuta, the God of the Forest, and the other was at Stonehenge on a
moonlit night."

"I know Stonehenge," said the priest.

"But this time was in a Christian place, and there was a priest to bless
us."

The priest bowed.

"Thank you, Father."

"It is perhaps appropriate that you are here.  This little church is
dedicated to St Bacchus and St Sergius.  Some have wondered if they were
two men like you.  Also the icon over here."  He walked over to the icon of
Jesus healing the Centurion's servant.  "Some think that he was special in
that way to the Centurion.  Some Centurions loved men, we know that.  St
Luke uses a word for the servant, pais, boy, and that word was often used
for a younger intimate friend.  St Luke says the servant boy was dear to
the Centurion.  So may be.....we don't know."

"Now I've got one or two things to do in here."  The priest turned away.

Trevor and Ross made their way out of the church and stood looking down
into the cove.  The sun was beginning to get lower in the sky.  They held
hands drinking in the beauty of sea, cliffs, hills and the small cove
below.

"Happy?" asked Ross.

"Very."

They heard the priest shut the door of the church.

"Father, we'd like to give you something," said Trevor.

He shook his head.  No, it was good to be able to bless you both.  You
don't pay for blessings, they are a free gift from God."

"Then let us give a thank you gift to the church."

"If you insist, for the church."

Trevor and Ross both found some money and handed the priest generous
donations.  The three of them walked down the path to where they had parked
the car.  They talked of England, New Zealand, and the priest told them
something of himself.

***

They returned to take up the routine of their daily life.  Ross was well
into his latest book.  The previous one had been partly set in the USA.
This was a result of his visit to that country of his way to Britain.  It
had been well reviewed, and led to a growing readership in that country.

Trevor was beginning to find that he was being asked to take workshops of
seminars for businesses.  In 1973 he was asked to take a seminar for a
group of bank executives.  Three months later he was asked to speak to the
Board of Directors of a Merchant Bank.  He began to be consulted regularly,
and in 1978 was asked to join the Board.  He was becoming quite a wealthy
man.

Gloria continued to work for Trevor and Ross, cleaning the house, doing the
washing and ironing.  They saw less and less of Zach as he was growing up.
He was often off playing with his school friends.  Trevor always sent him a
birthday and a Christmas present, and always there was a thank you note.

They did however see Paul Driffield quite regularly.  He was elected as a
representative of his diocese on to the General Synod of the Church of
England.  This body usually met at least twice a year in London.  Paul came
and stayed with Trevor and Ross when he was down in London on General Synod
business.  Once or twice a year Trevor and Ross went to stay in Bradford
with Paul and Lizzie and their children.  `An inspection of his god son'
was how Trevor described these visits.

The next big changes came in Trevor's life in 1976.   Ross decided to go out
and visit his parents in New Zealand,  visiting Canada on the way.  The plan
was for Trevor to join him for a short stay in New Zealand before travelling
back to London together with a couple of weeks in India on the way.   But
little did they realise when Trevor said goodbye to Ross at Heathrow,  that
the Blenheim Concordat was going to be called into question.

Jeff at Jeffyrks@hotmail.com