This is a work of fiction. Names of characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously; any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2011 by Dennis Milholland – All rights reserved. Other than for private, not-for-profit use, no part of this work may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in any form or by any means, other than that intended by the author, without written permission from the copyright holder.

Careful! This is a work of fiction containing graphic descriptions of sex between males and critiques of religion and governments.

Love It or Leave It

by Dennis Milholland

questions and comments are welcome. www.milholland.eu / dennis@milholland.eu

Thirty-six

(Friday October 14th)

It’s either a cloudy day or before sunrise as I wake up on what must be Friday. I roll over to look at my clock radio. It’s not on the nightstand. My watch is, however. Slowly, events are returning to my weak consciousness. I’m not at our apartment. I reach for Raphaël; he is here. That’s all that matters.

I prop myself on an elbow to look at my watch and to watch Raphaël, not necessarily in that order. This is when I rediscover that someone else is lying on the other side of Raph. That’s right; Liam is in our bed. Good Liam, gentle Liam, thoroughly asexual Liam. So, it must be before five a.m., since he would be getting up, according to what he’d told us.

During the same conversation, when Raph and I told him that we were glad to be going to sleep with him, he informed us gently but in no uncertain terms, that he did not desire sex. He has never had sex, nor did he intend to start having sex. Cuddles, yes, manipulation of the genitalia, no. Probably the way a father would usually react, had my old man been more conventional. No, that’s not fair. I’m the one who initiated things with Seph.

And, according to Liam, we would have to turn off the lights before we cuddled. This, supposedly, is how the British do it. I can’t judge one way or the other. The only other Brits, with whom I have had carnal contact, other than Raph and Marty, who, in essence, don’t count, since I’d already had sex with them before they were British, were my own father and Richard, in that order.

Dad is far from lights-out and under the covers. Richard seems to be somewhat straight-laced, but once he gets started, he’s alright, at least in the cock-sucking department.

When I pry my eyes off Raph and look at my watch, I discover that it is ten past five. Quietly climbing over Raphaël, I stroke my hand over the back of Liam’s head. “Hey, it’s past your time to get up.”

“I know.” But the whispered voice is not coming from the body on the bed. It’s coming from the doorway to the corridor. “Go back to sleep, Daniel. You don’t have to be up, any time soon.”

“But do have a good time.” Richard is grinning over Liam’s shoulder.

Of a sudden, memory reactivates. Richard must have been trying to subtly tell us that Liam is asexual, or wants to abstain from sex as long as he is in the military, or just simply isn’t interested in Raphaël and me, when he brought up the subject of homosexuality’s being a court-martial offense in the British Army. Whichever way it is, it’s his decision and for us to respect.

Therefore, as a matter of deduction, the other body in our bed has to be Ron Upton. I don’t think that there is going to be too much standoffishness on his part. But then again, I could be wrong. And, of course, there is one sure-fire way of finding out.

I kiss him on the neck, just below his earlobe. And I back off just a little to look at him. He reminds me of something, but I can’t put a finger on it.

Groggy, but coherent. “Don’t stop, Dan. I really like that.” Never having to be prompted twice, I continue.

It doesn’t take more than a couple of minutes for us to get into heavy petting. I feel his stiff rod under his briefs. He feels mine. Our tongues are taking slashes at each other and trying to intertwine.

Behind me, Raph yawns and purrs, letting his hand stretch toward my ass. “Why do you have your underpants on?”

Without waiting for my gurgled answer, he slides them off. Then, discovering that Ron still has his on, he removes them in a burst of activity. Raph’s underwear is nowhere in our immediate vicinity.

“Morning, pritty fella.” Ron greets Raphaël and grows timid, letting his voice go very low. “Would you be the first to take me?”

I stifle a short snort, but Raph proves the more sensitive and kisses him gently on his shoulders. “I’d love to, Ronnie.” And I would imagine, that this is not the first time Raph has given it some thought.

Raphaël raises Ron’s midsection, shoving a pillow under him. This reveals Ron’s soft hole with a ring of hair bordering it. He then lies down on top of Ron’s back, kissing him on the neck and ears. "This is going to take a while, Ronnie, so relax and breathe deeply." Ron nods, and I wonder where I know the name, Ronnie, from.

Raph then lifts his own buttocks and slowly rubs the shaft and head of his velvet cock along the inside of Ron's crack, letting his juices accumulate in the cleft. He then rolls off the muscled back and massages more juice from his throbbing cock around and slightly into Ron’s hole. Ron takes a deep breath and moans in pleasure.

“Don’t push, Ronnie,” Raphaël purrs into his ear. “just relax and let it happen.”

Raph lowers his face to just above his sex-partner’s hole and spits a good-sized wad massaging it into Ron. Then he gently takes Ron’s left leg and bends it until the knee is just about chest high. “You’re going to feel some pressure, when my dick starts to enter you. If it’s uncomfortable, tell me to stop.”

“’Kay.” He gasps and waits.

“Keep breathing, Ronnie.” Raph slaps the glistening hole with his cock. “Never stop breathing. You’ll even feel better if you start panting. That’s the way.”

Raph takes my hand and places it on his dick. “Milk some more juice out and aim it.”

I prove that I can follow directions and rub Raph’s natural lube into Ron’s hole. Both are starting to pant for real and I aim the head of Raph's cock into the virgin receptacle. Raph is being tender, gentle and taking things very slowly. Ron growls approval at Raph’s short stabs, penetrating him just a bit deeper each time.

“Are you alright, Ronnie?” Raph stops for an instant.

“Don’t stop.” Ron sputters between panted breaths and arches his back toward Raphaël. “For god’s sake don’t stop.”

The head of Raph’s cock has obviously passed the sphincter, so he smoothly slides to the hilt. “You still okay?”

“Please, pritty fella, don’t stop.” Ron pleads, so Raphaël withdraws and plunges back into him. “Yes, my pritty lover, yes.”

Raph brings Ron up onto his knees and gives his ass a good ride, while coaxing Ron to rotate his butt in rhythm to the thrusts. “Now, Ronnie,” Raph withdraws his cock from Ron’s expanded hole. “roll onto your back,” He helps him adjust his hips on the pillow. “that’s the ticket.” He gives Ron a sloppy kiss. “Dan is going to take you over the edge. No matter how horny you feel, do not touch your cock. Dan is going to make you cum from inside your bottom.”

Ron is still panting from lust and takes my head in both hands and passes on Raph’s sloppy kiss. “Fuck me, Dan.”

And that is exactly what I intend to do. From watching Raphaël penetrate Ron for the first time and then teaching him how to fuck by just doing it, my cock feels as if it may explode from the building pressure.

I gently place his ankles onto my shoulders and my dick finds its path without the aid of my hands. Since my penis points upwards when hard, the first thing it stabs is Ron’s prostate. His eyes go wild, resembling those of a horse that is about to be broken. His voice growls in a deep, lustful tone. He looks virtually obsessed, rocking his head violently back and forth.

I retract my dick and plunge in again, and not as gently as the first time. His growl becomes more demanding. “Do it, Motherfucker! Do it! Make me pay for what I did.” This is when I recognize the whimpers from long ago.

I let his ankles slide onto my upper arms and pull his ass cheeks back onto my cock. My hips start their pounding gyrations as I keep pulling his ass relentlessly onto my spike.

He is getting into the act wholeheartedly as he contracts his sphincter muscles in time with my pounding. Approaching my own orgasm, but not quite getting there, I increase intensity when he screams, claws my butt cheeks and squirts his load over his own face, neck and chest. His spunk hits Raph on the head, just above the ear, while he’s trying to muffle Ron’s screams with kisses.

I pull myself up and squat on Raph’s knob, letting it sink into me, knowing that he still hasn’t come either, wanting his juices inside me, wanting him to make me squirt. With my head turned over my left shoulder, I suck his erect tongue, as if it were his second member, Raphaël assumes command. He lifts his hips off the mattress, slamming against my squatting ass.

He just about has me on the brink, when Ron takes my rod into his mouth, letting his fingers toy with the area around my hole as Raph pounds it. That’s all it takes. I’m gone, spent, sensing the room spin, as I feel Raph’s throbbing, pulsating cock cut loose inside my ass.

Exhausted, I roll off Raph’s dick and let mine slide out of Ron’s mouth. As I fidget to get comfortable between the sweaty bodies of my fellow sinners, I have to laugh. “You’re Ronnie Sinclair, aren’t you?”

“When did you figure it out?” The voice to my left asks meekly.

“Let it go, Dan.” Raphaël grabs my hand and squeezes. “That was a decade ago.”

“I know.” I reply still laughing but lacking in humor. “I’m not going to break his jaw again. I just want to get things straight."

I prop myself up on my left elbow. “I figured it out, just now, when you told me to make you pay for what you did. Did you want Raph to be the first one to fuck you, as a sort of atonement for your having held him down while Paulo Gionelli beat him up?”

“I was infatuated with Raphaël, from the first day I saw him on the playground at Ashland.” Ron sighs. “But I was also scared shitless of Paulo’s older brother, Marco. You pro’lly didn’t know him. He woulda been in the seventh grade that year. You guys were what? In the second?”

“Yeah, second grade.” Raph confirms.

“Marco Gionelli even had the teachers and police runnin’ scared, and I was only a puny fifth-grader.” Ron titters. "He got expelled and sent to reform school, when he pulled a switchblade on the janitor after school.” He shudders; I pull him in close. “But before he left, he threatened to kill me if I didn’t take care of his little brother.”

“And how did you know them?” Raph sounds interested but not eagerly so.

“They were our next-door neighbors down on Spruce.” He kisses my chest and licks sweat. “Luckily, Mom married her boyfriend, I got a new name, and we moved to a new grade-school district.”

“And how were you infatuated with me?” My Raphaël seems incredulous.

“My real dad and my mom were havin’ a very messy divorce when I was in the third grade, I had to repeat the year. So, when I was in the fifth grade, the year I held you down, I was coming into puberty and most anything would trigger a hard on.” Ron snickers. "But with you, Raphaël, it was different. Every time I saw you, my heart skipped a beat and I got butterflies in my stomach.”

“Is that why you paid me to let you play with my dick during recess?” Raph is now piecing things together.

Ron grunts in affirmation, and then articulates: “Yeah.”

I let Ron continue to suck on my nipple, so I turn my head to Raphaël. “And how much did he pay you?”

“A quarter.” He says absently, obviously thinking about something else.

“Now, that’s just great.” I make sure my voice indicates that I’m teasing. “My lover started out as a two-bit whore in the second grade.”

“I was afraid to say no.” Raph laughs somewhat defensively. “And you had a different recess than we did. So, you weren’t around to protect me, like you’ve been doing ever since.” Then, he snickers. “But the money was good.”

“Yeah.” Ron giggles. “Until you came along and broke up our little prostitution ring, by beating the shit out of Paulo and me and getting Raph transferred into your class. You don’t know how jealous I was."

“And now?” Predictably, you could hear a pin drop. “Are you still jealous?”

“Naw, not really.” He cuddles closer. “It’s more like envy. I’d like to have what you have, but I don’t want either of you.” Ron giggles. “Sounds silly, don’t it?”

“And why were you so intent on having sex with Raphaël?” I decide to go for the gory details as long as he’s willing to talk.

“It was that obvious, huh?” When I chuckle, nod and verbally affirm his question, he continues. “So I could put an old childhood fantasy ta rest.”

“You wanted to have sex with me, when we were kids?” Raph appears to be having trouble discussing their past detachedly.

“I did have sex with you during the recesses.” Ron explains. “You were a little kid and didn’t get hard. But every time you’d let me play with you, I’d come in my pants.”

“I thought all you wanted was to play with my dick, because it’s a different color than yours. But you were getting off on it?” Raph laughs sarcastically. “Does sort of redefine ‘two-bit whore’, doesn’t it?”

“That’s why I wanted a daisy chain, so I could suck your grown-up cock and finally taste you proper. ‘Cept you ain’t got a foreskin no more.” Despite the slight disappointment about the missing foreskin, Ron gives the appearance of being satisfied. “And this morning, pritty fella, this was heaven. This’s outdone all my fantasies.”

He pats Raph on the thigh and runs his fingernails up to his groin. “And I know, it’ll pro’lly never happen again. Least, not in the near future. But I’m awful glad it did.”

The intercom crackles and Liam’s voice tells Raph that Corporal Matthews is waiting for their rematch. Raph, in turn, runs to the intercom and depresses the button: “Be down in five.”

Ron watches him contently as he hurries to the shower. “We better be gittin’ up, too, Dan. Richard might git the right idea.” He chuckles and I smile.

Raph hurries out in his gym shorts and shower shoes with a towel over his shoulder. “See you guys at breakfast.”

“Break a leg.” I yell after him.

“Where’s he goin’?” Ron grins, and I can tell that he’s up for some fun.

“To a swimming meet.” And I put my foot down. “And we’re going to watch and then eat breakfast.” I push him toward the shower and turn on the water.

It takes less than five minutes for Ron and me to be standing at the moat’s edge just in time for the turn in the first lap. Predictably, Raph comes in second by an arm’s length.

Now, I say predictably, it could be because he’s worn slick from pre-match sex, but it could well be that Raph let Vince win. Whatever, Vince has his victory and can retain his brigade title, without having to admit that he was once beaten by a civilian.

“Jolly good, Raphaël.” Vince is panting and hugging his opponent. “Thought you had me again after the first lap.”

Raph is panting hard, indicating that pre-match sex did play an important role, just like Coach used to say. He smiles into Vince’s face. “I spent everything I had on the first lap. You got me.” The way Raph is looking at Vince tells me that he means this as a double entendre. Vince apparently doesn’t get it. All the better.

“As a wee reward,” Liam chuckles. “Corporal Matthews, the Consul General requests the honour of your presence at breakfast.”

“Shall I put on me mess dress, Colour?” Vince asks while pulling himself out of the pool.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Matthews.” Liam states jokingly. “Number eight combat will be fine. We'll be eating in the kitchen."

“But you can sit next to me on the bench.” Raphaël beams and snaps his towel at Vince’s naked ass, who then artfully dodges it.

“Now, you lot, get presentable.” Liam orders Vince and Raphaël. “Breakfast in ten.”

We leave Ron at the moat talking to Sergeant Taylor, who is the puzzling one amongst the guards. To judge by his accent, he's North American but not Canadian. I heard him say ‘about’.

Richard is sitting at the table, reading The Kansas City Times and gives a whistle at Raph’s nakedness as we walk through the kitchen. I must have closed the invisible door, since it is shut, and I have no idea how to open it. I look at Raph; he shrugs. Richard is reading the paper, and we finally get Liam's attention.

“Ya need some help, Lads?” Liam is slowly moving toward us. Raphaël is starting to shiver.

“Could you please show us how to open the door?” I ask him in a low voice, as not to disturb Richard.

“Now, if I did that, Lads, I'd have to..."

“Colour!” Richard approaches. "Do not scare the guests." He then chuckles and shows us the latch release in the door frame.

“Sorry, Sir.” Liam appears to be a little too saddened by the rebuke, telling me that he does have feelings for Richard. “Was just having a bit of fun.” He returns to the stove.

“You’re grand, Colour.” We hear Richard say on our way up the apples, as Liam puts it.

Perched on the edge of the bed, I’m waiting for Raphaël to come out of the shower. I’m visibly nervous when I ask him about his feelings for Vince. I have no idea why I’m feeling insecure of a sudden.

Raphaël stops drying off and gives me a kiss, which would normally lead to something other than breakfast. « Non, mon amant, you’re the only one that I have romantic feelings for. Vincent is sweet, and in normal circumstances, I might approach him for a threesome. But he’s serving Reine et le Pays. And, as we’ve both been told, he’s off limits. Do you feel threatened ? »

« Pas exactement. » I must be having trouble not to appear troubled, since he buries my head in his arms and presses me to his chest.

« D’accord, mon amant, » He’s massaging the back of my head with one hand as he holds me tight with the other. I can smell his comforting scent, since he only rinsed the chlorine off under the shower. « even though you never ask, here it is. Until I got to know you… I mean really know your innermost thoughts, I had no idea what commitment meant. Now that I do, I’m just as committed to you, as you are to me. There never will be another, other than possibly for sex. But there will never be anyone to share my life with, other than you. »

He is still pressing me to his chest when Liam’s voice comes through the intercom announcing breakfast. Raphaël goes to the box in the wall and confirms that we are on our way. While rapidly dressing, he makes his position clear. « Malgré que you might want me to keep more distance to Vincent while we’re here, I won’t. If I did, he’d think that he’s done something to cause my standoffishness. There is no reason to give him a guilt trip, making things worse. So, I’ll continue just as I have been. »

I nod, taking his point and feeling just a little ashamed of my apprehension. Raphaël fastens the webbed belt on his hip-huggers and reaches out to take my hand, pulling me off the edge of the bed.

On the stairs we hear the many voices filling the kitchen. And when we arrive, aside from Richard, Vince and Ron already sitting at the table, Bob is taking off his leather jacket, and Liam is helping Jennette out of her Navy pea coat.

“Wow, old home week.” I say rushing to Bob and Jennette for a hug. When I release them, they give each other an odd glance. And when they hug Raphaël, it’s longer and more cuddly. I quickly check my breath.

“Dan, your breath is all right.” Richard has an austere look. “Robert and Jennette have some potentially disturbing news. Now, do take a seat, so we can get started.”

Bob takes the chair at the other end of the table opposite Richard. "The FBI, or more precisely, my contacts at the FBI informed me about an hour ago that Marty and Joseph have been shot by the United States Border Patrol while crossing into Canada."

I feel dizzy and think that I could throw up. Raphaël grabs my hand under the table. He looks pale.

“Less than twenty minutes earlier,” For some reason, Richard does not look as austere as he did. “our embassy was notified that the ‘British citizen’, I don’t know why the bloody Yanks can never get that right, that Joseph Alexandre Bourke, was shot and killed trying to cross the border into Canada.” He clears his throat. “Personally, I think they’re bluffing, trying to get their hands on Daniel and Raphaël.”

Glances start flashing back and forth, and, of course, our lawyer beats everyone else to the draw. “What makes you think that?”

“For starters, those two are not your average blokes. Joseph is highly trained, and arguably the longest serving British spy in history.” This gets a broad grin from Jennette and nodding from Bob, apparently both are impressed. Vince gives us a thumbs up. And Ron is dumbstruck and shaking his head in amazement, that his pal Joey has another side to him.

“And the other, until rather recently, was a decorated member of the American Special Forces, with training and experience in escape and evasion." Richard looks at Bob for confirmation. Bob nods while he takes a sip of his coffee.

“And,” Richard straightens his back and raises his glance from the paper in his hand. “they failed to mention the other ‘British citizen’,” Richard chuckles coyly. “or rather the other citizen of the United Kingdom and Colonies, that being one Martin George Mortimer Maurice Mongrain-Bourke.”

Raphaël still has a death grip on my hand but is now smiling, and the colour has returned to his face. The golden October sun, coming out from behind a fluffy cloud, shines through the large window, making Vince and Ron silhouettes.

When no one reacts, Richard continues. “When Joseph and Martin phoned me from a pay phone at Katz on Main, I told Martin not to take any identification other than his laissez-passer, no passport, no driver's licence, no credit cards, nothing to identify him as anything other than Martin George Mortimer Maurice Mongrain-Bourke.”

“And knowing the excellent soldier he is,” Bob’s tone and face are stoic. “that’s exactly what he did. I found the passport and his birth certificate in an envelope on my bed with a note and the address in Brighton, where he wants me to send them.”

“Excellent, Bob.” Richard makes a note on his paper. “Bring them over here, and I'll take them with us, so our American friends can’t get their grubby little hands on them.”

Bob gets up from the table and asks Liam for his jacket. I have no idea where Liam’s stash is, but coats and bags disappear and reappear instantly, and there are no visible racks or coat hooks to be found anywhere.

In a wink Bob is taking a large brown envelope out of the inside pocket and hands it to Richard. "I added some things, like his military discharge papers, which, I guess, he can frame.”

“Or burn them along with the effigy of the Pope on Guy Fawkes Night, next month.” With the exception of Vince, who is trying not to laugh, everyone has a puzzled expression, but Richard chooses not to explain. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Corporal, do laugh or you’ll have a stroke.” Richard checks the contents of the envelope. “Excellent. We shall take these with us. And, Corporal, please explain to these good people what Bonfire Night is.”

Vince is very knowledgeable about his country's, in his case, England’s history. He goes into detail about the Gunpowder Plot of 1605, where English Catholics failed to assassinate the protestant King, James I, and how it became a bank holiday until the anti-Catholic rioting became too fierce every 5th of November, that large efforts had to be taken to settle things down.

We learn that one of the towns where rioting was the most fierce was Lewes, his home town, also in East Sussex, not far from our new home in Brighton. At this, Raph tickles my hand, as if to say that I’m still his only one.

I’m about to ask how far Brighton is from Lewes, when a phone rings a double ring just like in Dial M for Murder. On the wall to the right of the doorway leading to the formal dining room as well as to the invisible door to Richard's private quarters, are two phones, one black and one green.

The black one is a standard model from Southwestern Bell, and the green one has the cradle horizontally on the top, so the receiver is parallel to the floor, rather than hanging perpendicularly to cover the dial, as its American counterpart does.

Liam doesn’t move, although he is closer. Richard takes the paper with his notes to the phone with him. He picks it up on the third couplet. “Yes?” He pauses. “Shall return immediately.” He then places a forefinger on the cradle to disconnect and dials a long series of numbers, possibly twelve. “Tá mé ag éisteacht.”

Bob brightens up, recognizing the sentence as Irish. As for myself, I exhale a long sigh of relief. He must be talking to Dad.

“Thuig mé.” Richard replaces the receiver and returns to the table with a broad grin. Bob shows him thumbs up as if he’d understood every word. “From the looks of things, the mission was a success. The message was: ‘Maurice and the lads have arrived safely.’ Accordingly, our new rendez-vous time is 0200 hours, tomorrow.”

When Bob gets up to ask Liam for his jacket, Richard hurries to stop him. “Robert, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask you, Jennette and Ron to spend the night here and wait until I can confirm with Colour Sergeant McAnally that we have arrived. Then you’ll be free to go.”

“Fine with me.” Bob chuckles knowingly. “As long as you’ve got some beer, porn and weed.”

Jennette throws her head back and laughs wholeheartedly. “As long as it’s lesbian porn and anything but American beer, I’m in.”

Richard seems amused. “There must be at least twenty cases of anything but American in the cellar. Am I right, Colour?” Liam nods chuckling. “And the majority of our porn involves two ladies and a gentleman.”

“You may not get rid of us.” Jennette gives us her mysterious Bacall chuckle. “Ever.”

“Uh, Richard,” Ron gets up from the table and is followed by Vince. “The Corporal, here, and I have been talking, and I’d like to come with you.”

“And why’s that?” Richard sounds just short of patronizing. “I’m sorry, Ron, it’ll be too dangerous.”

“Sir, request permission to speak.” Vince says much too stiffly for my civilian tastes.

“Granted, Corporal.” I suspect that Richard likes playing soldier. Although I can’t say that the work he does, isn’t as dangerous as life in the military, he seems to blatantly enjoy the ceremonious heal-clicking. “At ease.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Vince doesn’t look at him, rather through him. “Mr. Upton” This is the reaction I’ve been waiting for. Jennette flinches, recognizing the name of her cousin’s fiancé. “has been trained as an Army Ranger. He is on reserve status. He’s a long-distance lorry driver by trade and owns and operates that Land Rover, parked across the street, which is virtually identical to ours, and I might add, it would reduce the driving stress considerably, were he to join us.”

“Are you allowed to leave this country, Soldier?” Richard inquires.

Much to my dismay, Ron snaps to attention and replies that he is. I fail to understand why everyone is so keen on getting shot at and having all of their personal liberties suspended. Ike Eisenhower was right. This country has to pay much closer attention to the military industrial complex.

“But would you leave the country, Soldier?”

“If the mission requires it, yes, Sir.” This is the asshole I put into hospital when we were in the second grade. And now, he’s biting at the bits to help Raph and me flee the country. Not to mention the fact that both Raph and I fucked him silly before breakfast.

“Which weapons have you qualified on, Soldier?” Richard is getting to the brass tacks.

“The M14 rifle, the M16, semi-automatic, the M60 machine gun, the M61 hand grenade, the M72 LAW and your Sterling L2A3 submachine gun, Sir.”

“The Mack 4, impressive, I do say. Now, tell me, Soldier, why are you so eager to come along?” Richard is looking for the tip off.

Ron clears his throat. “Let me just say, Sir, that I have an old debt to pay back to Daniel and Yves-Raphaël,” I didn’t even know that he knew Raph’s full name. Maybe this has been a long-standing thing with him, after all. “which I need to pay back before they leave. I didn’t get to say good-bye to Joseph, who has been my good friend for many years.” This raises eyebrows all around. “And I think I would fit in well with Corporal Matthews and Sergeant Maccan.”

“I can second that, Sir.” Vince seems just as taken with Ron as Ron is with him.

“Do you trust his abilities, Corporal?” Richard glares at Vince at close range.

“I do, Sir.” Since Ron probably only knows the emphatic ‘yes’ from American wedding ceremonies, he blushes bright red.

“Good, Corporal,” Richard is friendly but firm and Liam is grinning on the verge of outright laughter. “go get your Mark 4, and we'll see how proficient Mr. Upton is."

As Liam starts to transfer uneaten breakfast rolls and toast from the table to the long counter opposite the stoves and refrigerator everyone instinctively pitches in. “If anyone cares for anything, just give me a shout.” Liam says as he produces a padded yellow oil cloth from one of the cupboards to cover the table.

Ron takes a seat on the bench with his back to the window, placing a dime and his car keys with a church key on the ring in front of him. “Gotta blindfold?” This is taking on the form of a magician’s act.

“Uh, Colour?” Richard turns to Liam.

“Will a serviette do?” Liam opens a drawer, awaiting an answer.

“Huh?” Ron looks helpless.

“A napkin, Ron." I translate, as I've been accustomed to do for years.

“Sure a napkin’ll be jist fine.” Richard passes the large damask square from Liam to Ron. Ron rolls it into a band about four inches wide and ties it around his head, covering his eyes.

Vince reappears with a tube-like contraption, which resembles an oil squirt gun and appears to be about thirty inches long. “I’ll put it in front of you, Ron, with the butt to your right.”

“Okay, Sir,” Ron feels for the weapon. “Do you want an elementary strip and assembly or an advanced one with removing the ejector?”

Richard is grinning, while watching Vince watch Ron. “An elementary strip and assembly will do nicely, thank you very much.”

For some inexplicable reason both Bob and Vince look at their watches and Richard commands him to commence. With uncanny speed, Ron sets the safety and collapses the butt frame. He folds it under the tube, making the entire thing about a third shorter.

Then, he removes the cap off the back of the tube and takes out a large spring with a round metal cylinder and lays them in the middle of the table. His right hand searches a bit for the dime, and with it he turns the slot of the screw on the right side of the pistol grip to the horizontal position and takes the church key on his key ring and removes something, which in turn releases the trigger assembly. When he removes the trigger guard, he places the parts in the middle of the table closest to him. He slaps the table. "Stripping complete, Sir."

“Assemble, Soldier.” Richard commands looking at Vince, who gives him the thumbs up.

And with the same agility, Ron reassembles the weapon. My head gets a little dizzy, when I imagine that I'm watching reality play out in reverse. I move to the bar to get a cup of coffee. The room is silent, everyone watching his nimble hands at work. When I look over, he is ripping off the blindfold and the grease gun even has its butt back.

“Time, Corporal?” Richard has both eyebrows arched.

“43 seconds, Sir.” Vince is glowing at Ron.

Everyone seems impressed, that is with the exception of Raphaël and me. I fail to see the point, and Raph asks me in very low, whispered French where the rabbit is. I giggle, harvesting a glare from Bob.

“All right, Ron,” Thankfully, Richard has gone off the soldier routine. “you’re in. You’ve proved to me that you can follow instructions and that you know a thing or two about the weapon we use. But you will have to allow someone from our security detachment, either Corporal Matthews or Corporal Baynes, to conduct a full body search."

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Ron expresses himself once more in a robot-like manner. Actually, I think, that he may well have a screw or two loose. And I bet he’s going to have Vince look up his ass.

Again in low, whispered, rapid-fire French, Raph wants to know if we can watch. Again, I giggle. And again Bob glares.

“Corporal, take Ron, Daniel and Yves-Raphaël down to the quartermaster storeroom and see if Sergeant Williams can fit them out with the new full number eight battle dress, boots, green beret like yours but no rank, no unit insignias. Ron should have an Mk 4 with 500 rounds; I’ll sign for it and the uniforms. Tell him, the uniforms will come out of the FCO budget, and he’ll get his bloody pea shooter back. But first, do a cavity search on him.” Richard nods toward Ron, and from the pitiful expression, I can tell that he would like to have participated.

“Yes, Sir.” Vince motions to us. “Come along, Lads.”

“Hmm, they get to wear green berets.” Bob seems to elude a mixture of humour and disgust. “What does the green beret signify, Corporal?”

“Military Provost Guard Service, Sir.” Vince answers the question but does not stop. I imagine that he’s looking forward to getting his fingers up Ron’s ass. Ron, being the first out, holds the kitchen door open for us.

Crossing the paved space between the main residence and the guards’ barrack, Ron chuckles nervously. “Uh, what are you looking for during the body search?”

“Homing devices, radio transmitters. a good time.” Vince gives Ron his gorgeous smile. And sees all of our surprised faces. “What?”

Ron starts to tremble slightly. "And what if you find something?"

“I’ll have to arrest you.” Vince puts his hand on Ron’s shoulder. “Then, I’ll get a dog collar from our K9 handlers and a lead to go with it. Then, you’ll have to sleep naked under my cot and drink out of a bowl.”

Ron stares at Vince first with surprised incredulity, which slowly morphs into lust. “Uh, can we do that even if you don’t find anything?”

“That could be arranged.” Vince holds open the door to the two-storey brick house. "But first, we have to see what you're hiding up there." He pats Ron on the ass.

Sadly Raphaël and I get to sit on plastic chairs outside the investigation room. Both of us are straining to hear something. But either nothing is happening, or they are being very discrete, or the room is soundproof. After about ten minutes, I think I can hear running water, which turns out to be coming from outside. Another ten minutes go by and the door unlocks and they emerge with very satisfied looks. They have, however, overlooked something; they are both showing signs of whisker burn.

“Vince.” He looks sheepishly at me. “Is there a washbasin in there?” I look toward the investigation room. He nods. “Then, go rinse your face in cold water. That’ll relieve the skin irritation.”

“Ta, Mate." He steers Ron back into the room, this time leaving the door open. The smell of recent, raw sex wafts out of the room. I quickly walk over to the window, run up the blinds and lift the sash. Since there are bars on the outside, I think it’ll be alright, if it stays open for awhile. I take the plastic bag in the waste basket, containing the soiled wipes and paper towels and knot it.

Patting his face dry with a paper towel, Vince grins at me. “You think of everything, Dan.”

“That’s what fairy godmothers are for, Vince.” I whisper as not to be any more conspicuous than we already are. “Now, let’s go get our butch shit.”

We follow Vince down a flight of wide concrete stairs and through a metal fire door. The walls are not any different than the walls of the bunker, and I assume that this is not the only floor to this basement, either. Sergeant Williams, a thin genteel-looking man, with a tape measure around his neck, greets us as we enter the room, which reeks strongly of moth balls.

“Colour phoned and told me that you’re about Corporal Matthews’ size, so I’ve taken this selection of our new DPM number eights out for you to try.” His accent is refined without any trace of dialect. In fact, he sounds a lot like Richard. But I seriously doubt that Sergeant Williams is getting a knighthood.

Having understood everything but ‘new DPM number eights’, I have to laugh and inquire as to the meaning.

“Uh, terribly sorry, Lads. We don’t get many civilians down here. The military is changing uniforms. You've seen the lads with the red peaked hats or the dog handlers with their scarlet berets?"

Raphaël and I nod, confirming that we have. Only Ron is shaking his head. “I only saw the green berets.”

“The green berets, like the ones you’ll be wearing signify the Military Provost Guard Service. The scarlet peaked caps and berets, signal that they belong to the Royal Military Police. At any rate, the RMP still wear olive green battle dress, while the lads with the Guard Service have our new Disruptive Pattern Material…” He sees out confused faces and chuckles. “camouflaged material for their number eights, i.e. temperate combat dress.”

“So,” Ron summarizes. “We’ll be wearing camouflage combat dress of the Military Provost Guard Service without unit and rank insignias. Isn’t that against the Geneva Conventions?”

Sergeant Williams smiles politely at Ron. “I am not an expert, Mr. Upton, but I do know that we are not currently at war with the United States, so the problem of wearing the wrong uniform does not apply. And, if it were to apply, it would only affect you, since Messrs. Mongrain-Bourke are both citizens of the United Kingdom and Colonies.”

Of a sudden, Ron looks lonely, as if we’d deserted him. Sergeant Williams recognizes Ron’s mood. “Are you having second thoughts about your mission, Mr. Upton?”

Ron snaps out of his momentary daze. "Uh, no. I'm just wonderin’, if I should leave this country for good, too.”