Date: Wed, 4 May 2016 12:03:34 +0100 (BST)
From: "rampage938@btinternet.com" <rampage938@btinternet.com>
Subject: WILLIAM

Hi all you guys! Oh, I'm sooo horny this morning. I woke up with a stomper
like I haven't had since my mid-teens! Now I could do with a long, hard
session but will have to make do with William! Oh, well. On with the
story. "William" was composed in June, 2006 and is the oldest of my
tales. It is short and probably full of mistakes and grammatical errors,
etc., but I thought you might find it amusing or whatever. Thanks, by the
way, for those of you who take the trouble to give me honest opinions about
my efforts. It encourages me to make more effort to get things more
interesting!

William was melancholy. He lay beneath the bedcovers, gazing at the stained
ceiling of his small bedroom. Rain pattered against the window, early
morning light filtered bleakly through the thin curtains. "Fucking rain!"
he thought, "going to get bloody soaked again." He heard the swish of
rush-hour tyres on wet roads. Somewhere in the distance a police siren
wailed. Some stupid bastard going too fast again. William's mood of sullen
depression deepened as a gust of wind hurled a rattle of raindrops against
the window.

"What the fucking hell am I doing here? Books, books and more bloody
books. That arsehole of a tutor - what the fuck does he know about the
lives real people lead? Closet queen. Lived all his miserable life on
campus. And he had the shitting nerve to put the make on me - and I let
him! I let him suck me off! I'm almost twenty-one and I've no money, no
real friends since Adam left, no LIFE! What the fuck made Adam go off to
Paris? Why did he have that sudden urge to study at the Sorbonne?"

Adam had had it all: wealthy family, Tom Hanks looks and the equipment to
match. He'd won his rugby blue, he was a model scholar heading for a decent
First, he could drive his sporty little car like a dream, girls flocked
round him like moths round a candle flame - and he'd been William's mate,
confidant, bed-fellow, lover. But Adam was not around anymore: he'd simply
vanished very early one morning, leaving a hastily scrawled note on
William's rickety bedside table. William made a decision. "Shit! I'm
chucking this lot in! Gonna get a job - any fucking job - and learn to
drive. Get away from here!"

William finished shaving and stepped into the shower. He was forced to use
the communal bathroom, as he couldn't afford an en suite room in this bug
hutch of a hostel, run by a harridan whom he had dubbed Mother Bitch. He
turned the shower full on, hot and hard to remind him of how Adam's
masterpiece cock had felt against him. He let the steam and water envelope
him, wanting it to wash away his dark mood. He lathered himself as the
steaming water flowed down his back. A soapy hand lovingly caressed his
tumescent maleness, already responding to the stimulus of the stinging
spray of hot water. With his other hand, he reached behind and lathered his
streaming buttocks. Two soapy fingers slid between them, teasingly. He
threw back his head, eyes closed, his face receiving the full force of the
spraying water. The hand fondling his rigid manhood began an involuntary
rhythmical stroking movement. A wave of self-disgust and self-loathing
swept over him.

"NO!" he shouted to himself, "Stop!" He stepped out of the shower, straight
on to the bar of soap which had fallen on to the floor, and skittered
across the tiled floor only to ram his head into the opposite wall. He
cursed, loudly and profanely. This was going to be a bad day! He put a
small plaster over the small cut on his forehead, dressed and left the
hostel, without running into Mother Bitch. Thank fuck she wasn't about
yet. Could do without her sniping and prying.

William walked up The Avenue, huddled into his dowdy duffel coat, vainly
seeking protection from the persistent rain. Two dishevelled down-and-outs
thought of mugging him but soon changed their minds when they realised that
William was almost as penniless and destitute as they were. They wandered
off, looking for richer prey. "Christ," thought William, "scavengers
feeding on scavengers! What is happening to people?"

He decided to go on to campus to see if there were any part-time jobs
posted on the Hall notice boards. He needed to step off this treadmill. He
imagined he could hear Adam's voice railing at him: "Get a life, Will! Get
out there and do something, anything. You're not made for a life of books."
As his thoughts dwelt on the absent Adam, a dull sickening ache invaded the
pit of his stomach. He stopped, bending over as if he was going to vomit.

"You alright, young man?" A deep, kindly voice brought him back upright.

William turned and saw a tall man who was probably in his late forties. He
was protected from the lashing rain by a large, expensive umbrella; he was
wearing a dark, expensive winter overcoat and expensive black kid gloves;
expensive black shoes and an expensive dark suit. The collar of his crisp,
expensively snowy-white shirt supported a neatly knotted, expensive black
silk tie. He had just stepped out of a large, expensive chauffeur-driven
black limousine.

"Thanks, I'm fine, just a twinge. It's gone now." William made to walk on
but a gloved hand restrained him, resting on his arm.

"You don't look very well. Are you sure you are alright?" the man
persisted. "On your way to the university?" A gloved finger lightly tapped
the books William was holding close to his body in an attempt to shield
them from the rain.

"Yes, but it's OK, I'll be fine." William felt a slight panic rising in
him. He wanted to get away. He edged away from the stranger.

"Look, young man, I am a doctor. I'm on my way to my surgery in Allenbrooke
Lane. Let me check you over. I know all about young students and their
dietary habits!" He smiled warmly, gazing into William's pale eyes.

William gazed back, a strange feeling coming over him. He knew this man -
or at least there was something about him - his bearing, the timbre of his
voice, something - which William recognised. His panic began to subside.

"That's kind of you, sir, but I'm quite OK."

"My rooms are not that far and Allenbrooke Lane is on your route." He
turned, indicating his chauffeur. "Marcus here can soon run you up to the
campus. Don't worry," he added quickly, sensing William's hesitancy, "I
won't send you a bill!" He chuckled softly, waiting for William to respond
to the invitation.

"Well, OK." William sounded reluctant. He thought, "At least I'll get out
of this fucking rain."

The man reached down and opened the rear door of the limousine. "In you
get, then. By the way, what's your moniker?" William was startled. Adam had
always used that peculiar word.

"Er - William."

"Right, William. I am Louis Harrier." William was stunned.

He got in to the plush interior of the limousine, sinking back into the
soft leather upholstery. Louis Harrier went round behind the vehicle and
got in on the other side, next to William. As he settled back, he pressed a
button on the armrest panel beside him. A glass partition separating the
rear passengers from the driver slid to one side.

"Right, Marcus, take us home, please."

Marcus started the engine and eased the large car into the traffic
flow. The glass partition slid back to its original position, leaving the
two occupants to enjoy some privacy. William sat silent, thinking. Had he
met this man before? If he had, he couldn't remember it. But the man bore
Adam's surname - Harrier - an unusual one, surely? There could not be too
many Harriers in the phone book! He glanced at the man's profile against
the streaming window. His heart lurched. He could almost be sitting beside
Adam some twenty years into the future. The same tilt of the head, the same
strongly chiselled boyish features. Silver touching the short, dark and
expensively barbered hair at the temples. William detected the same faint
aura of expensively discreet after-shave. William felt a stirring in his
groin and, inwardly, silently, cursed. He did not need that, now! He turned
his head away and stared out at the rain sodden street and rain sodden
people going about their rain sodden lives. The man's voice broke softly
into William's reverie.

"I recognised you from a photograph I have been given. You confirmed I was
right when you gave me your name. You were my Cousin Adam's lover, weren't
you?"

William sat still, rigid with shock, as the car slowed and halted for
traffic lights. Of course. Adam had often spoken admiringly of an older
cousin called 'Lou' - Sir Louis Harrier, internationally respected figure
in the world of medicine. Here was William, sitting beside Cousin Lou in
Cousin Lou's car!

"I know a great deal about you, Will," came that soft, silky voice. "You
don't mind me using Adam's name for you?" William was too stunned to reply
but slowly shook his head. "Fine. As I was about to say, Adam confided
everything about his life to me, including his feelings for you. We were
closer than brothers, much more than cousins usually are. He loved you very
deeply, Will. Did you know that?" He paused, waiting for William to speak.

"I thought we were just good mates," William whispered.

"Oh, Adam thought more, much more, of you than that, Will. He thought so
much of you he deliberately took himself out of your life so that you could
make something worthwhile of it. He sacrificed his own happiness for
you. He had no need or desire to go to Paris and the Sorbonne, but he saw
something in you, something he knew was in danger of being stifled by his
love for you." Harrier paused, his head turned away, unable to meet
William's gaze. Then, slowly and quietly, he uttered the most devastating
words William was ever to hear.

"Adam is dead, Will."

No. No more today, God, please! Adam dead? No. There's some mistake, this
bastard's winding me up and he's trying to get me for himself. Wildly,
William shouted, "You're fucking lying! I don't know what you're playing
at, but it won't work. Let me out of this fucking car!"

"Quietly, Will, quietly." Harrier's calmness was unruffled by William's
outburst. "Believe me, I'm not trying to abduct you, or play monstrous
games with you. Adam died from injuries he received as the result of a road
accident near Paris. I need you to come with me. I am in possession of a
document which you need to read. Adam sent it to me from the hospital he
was taken to in Paris. Ah, here we are!" The car turned into the sweeping
gravel driveway leading up to a large detached three-storied house, coming
to rest before an imposing frontage.

As William slowly, shakily got out of the car, he glanced up at the
house. It was a grand Edwardian villa, constructed in the early years of
the twentieth century in a style then popular but later derisively labelled
"mock Tudor". William ascended the shallow steps, following Louis
Harrier. He glanced at a brass plate fixed to the porch wall. Engraved on
it were the words THE SANCTUARY and Harrier's title and name. These were
followed by an impressive string of letters indicating his professional and
social standing. Obviously, the man was something more than a grandiose GP
and the house more than just a doctor's surgery. The two men entered a
spacious lobby and William instantly felt all his tension and depression
ebbing away as the warmth and soothing atmosphere enfolded him.

"Come with me, Will. Please!" Louis Harrier took his hand and led William
forward as if he were a frightened, lost and lonely child.

A long time later, William emerged from The Sanctuary. He was alone. He
walked slowly down the drive to the street. He wandered through the town,
going anywhere, nowhere, not wishing to return to his little grey room at
the student hostel. Watery evening sunlight edged the wet dismal buildings
with silver. The world no longer seemed so dark. He now knew the depth of
Adam's love for him. Suddenly, hot salty tears burst unbidden from his
eyes, racking sobs tore through him. Emotions dammed up for too long rushed
out of him. He stood in the middle of the street, unheeding, unaware of the
slightly scared glances passers-by threw at him, not caring that they gave
him a wide berth as they passed.

When the storm had receded, he felt stronger. Adam had given him a life,
had made him financially secure. He could now pursue any calling in life he
chose - or none at all. Louis was to be his mentor and guide. In return,
William was to undertake to live with him and, in the fullness of time,
take care of him. However, all that was far, far in the future: for now,
William knew what he had to do. He must repay Adam's sacrifice with one of
his own.

When Will-Adam woke next morning, cold bright winter sunlight flooded the
room. Quickly, Will-Adam shaved, showered and dressed - no silly accidents
today! He ran downstairs to find Mother Bitch. He was brimming with
happiness: today was the real beginning of his life. He found Mother Bitch
sitting at the cluttered kitchen table, as usual, smoking. He knocked
politely on the open door and waited for the bitter faced harridan to turn
round. He could afford to be the polite young gentleman now.

"Wha' you want?" the woman spat at him.

"Good morning, Mrs Jepson. I'm leaving you today and I've brought my rent
for the room." He placed a fat white envelope on the table. The woman
stared at him. "There's more than enough there to cover what I owe you,"
Will-Adam continued, "plus some extra for the inconvenience of not giving
you due notice." He paused as the woman tore open the envelope and gaped
unbelievingly at the thick wad of fifty and twenty pound notes that fell on
to the table. "I had a stroke of good fortune yesterday, Mrs Jepson."

Will-Adam left the hostel and stood on the pavement outside. He noticed the
two ragged layabouts from yesterday, huddled under a wall on the opposite
side of the street. He picked up a canvas bag and crossed over. "Don't
run," he called out to the two youths, "I'm leaving today and there are
some clothes and things in there I won't be needing any more. Help
yourselves." He put the bag down against the wall and returned to his
position, waiting for Marcus and the limousine. He did not have to wait
long. He tossed his bags into the trunk of the car and turned to the
broadly smiling chauffeur.

"Marcus," said the new Adam-Will, "take me home, please!"

Laurie Page, June 2006.