Date: Mon, 24 Mar 2014 13:11:05 +0000
From: Chris Johns <chris-johns@hotmail.com>
Subject: Prisoner of My Mind

This is a love story in two parts and a little over 5,000 words. Unlike my
normal submissions this one has very little sex in it. Enjoy.

My thanks to Jere Adams who proofed this story for me, making it more
readable and therefore more enjoyable.

Please remember that Nifty survives as a free site only as long as you
support it with donations. $5 would get you just one of my stories on
Amazon, for that amount of dollars you get tens of thousands of stories on
Nifty.

			    PRISONER OF MY MIND
				  Part 1

I think I must have spent most of the flight with my eyes glued to the
aircraft window. Initially it was the green of the land, then it was the
blue of the sky above us and the fluffy white clouds below. We climbed to
35,000 ft. according to the captain, and I was amazed at the clarity of the
atmosphere. I could see the ripples on the water below; only, if they were
ripples to me they were probably big waves down there. I was going home to
England with a promise from the Foreign Office that I needn't worry, I
would be taken care of and everything would be fine. Yeah, yeah, except
that I had lost the most important four years of my life.

For the past four years I had looked at the bare walls of my six foot by
eight foot cell for 23 hours every day, no windows, no decoration of any
kind. For one magical hour, I was allowed to walk round an exercise
yard. That was just four grey walls, but above me the blue of a Vietnamese
sky, or, during the monsoons, overcast and raining, but sky, the real
world. Sometimes my hour would coincide with other prisoners and I got to
talk to other people, but that was usually quite stilted because of the
language barrier, and those days were few and far between. The rest of my
23 hours, I exercised and I meditated, interspersed with the odd guard
coming in to take advantage of my body, but even this human contact was
welcome in place of the complete loneliness. The diet was poor, but I was
determined to keep as fit as I could so that if I was ever freed I would
just need to replace weight, turning it into muscle straight away out of
habit.

My heinous crime? Well, actually there wasn't one. I know, everyone in
prison is innocent, but I really was. Eventually, the authorities felt
guilty enough, or, more likely, the adverse publicity forced them to reopen
my case and decide that I was innocent. Even after that it was still nearly
another year before I was whisked away to a first class hotel in Hanoi and
pampered for a few weeks while they processed my exit visa. I lived in the
lap of luxury puting back on weight I had shed in prison. The authorities
were clever. If I had gone home straight away there would have been a hue
and cry about starvation rations and prisoner brutality. I actually wasn't
too badly bruised, because they had laid off me for weeks when my release
date was published.

			***************************

I was nineteen years old, my first time in Vietnam for a holiday after my
first year at university. I was with Toy, my Thai boyfriend, but more about
him later. We did all the usual tourist things, and, just before we were
due to go home, we got in with a crowd of young Americans. What we didn't
know was that several of these guys were under surveillance by the security
services. I got friendly with the one who was obviously their leader, quite
a bit older than the others, and the one that got arrested the day before
we were to go home. They came for me as well, saying I was from British
Intelligence and the accomplice of the American. Nineteen years old and a
spy! I didn't argue or fight, or do anything that would prejudice my case.
I thought it would be a quick case of mistaken identity and I would fly
home with Toy. Wrong! I was charged with espionage and a court appointed
lawyer came to see me. My first worry was Toy. He was only sixteen and
would be lost here. I told the lawyer to tell him to go home; he was on a
student visa so he could come and go as he pleased. He could live in my
apartment the same as before.

I got the usual spiel about pleading guilty to get a lighter sentence, but
I wasn't, so I didn't and got 25 years. The first year I nearly lost my
mind. I was kept isolated and went slowly round the bend. The next three
years I got my hour a day and someone to talk to sometimes. I was beaten
most days and fed little. When my weight got dangerously low they fed me up
again. It went on like that my whole time in there. I have no doubt my
insides have been severely weakened by this activity.

How my case came to be reopened was because of a bloodhound of an English
journalist. The Americans managed to negotiate a release for their man who
was CIA. At his post release press conference, the English journalist asked
him about his young British accomplice. The American looked bemused and
said he didn't have an accomplice. That statement started the new
investigation, and eventually the Vietnamese accepted that I had been
imprisoned wrongfully, but only after a considerable amount of bad
publicity which impacted their burgeoning tourist trade.

When we landed at Heathrow, I was met by officers from Special Branch and
whisked away for a debrief, more like a grovelling request that I not make
any waves about this episode. It would look bad on the Foreign Office,
because they did nothing to help me, even though they knew I wasn't a spy.

I told them I had lost four years of my life and was going to do everything
in my power to make up for that. I would sell my story to the highest
bidder to fund me through university and use the money to guarantee my
place at my old college and on my original course. Job done. I would be
awarded an ex gratia payment equal to whatever the highest bid was from a
newspaper, and they would make sure I got back into my old university. This
all took days of negotiation, during which time I started thinking about my
flat in Cambridge. Mum and Dad had bought it for me outright when I won my
place at the college of my choice. Before I could make use of it they were
killed in a car crash. It left me devastated, not a good way to start a
four year university course. Their estate was all sorted before I took up
my place, and I knew I would have no money problems even though they were
gone. Money in the bank to add to my already adequate savings, and I was
taken by private car to Cambridge. I wondered what state my flat would be
in, probably uninhabitable; but I had to start somewhere. A locksmith was
waiting for us because my keys, along with all my other processions that
had been with me on holiday, were gone.

During my four years I had wondered and worried about Toy. I knew he had
been funded by his parents to study in England, but he was so young. Even
from the start, I worried about him being alone. He was sixteen years old
when I met him, three years younger than me. We had met in a student bar
off campus. Everyone knew he was too young to drink but he was such a
charming young man that there were always other students willing to cover
for him, not that he drank very much. We became friends, more than friends.
We were attracted to each other and very soon found out we were both
gay. From there it wasn't long before we became lovers. He was a delight to
be around and I soon persuaded him to come and live with me. That was when
I got his story.

Both of Toy's parents were Buddhist Monks; he had one elder sister, who was
a teacher. They spoke passable English and, when Toy graduated at sixteen,
he was funded for four years to study English Language and Literature at
college in England. He was a clever boy to have done this at sixteen
instead of eighteen, which would have been the norm. His problem, from day
one, was that he looked so young no one took him seriously. That state of
affairs lasted a very short time when his fellow students realised he was
streets ahead of them in English speech and knowledge of the subjects he
was studying. He mixed well with students from Cambridge University and the
faculty members who socialised with us. There was talk of him being
accepted into one of the university colleges instead of the private college
he was attending.

The Easter before my nightmare summer in Vietnam, we had gone to Thailand
together to meet his parents and sister. I was amazed at the ready
acceptance of me as Toy's lover. His parents were gracious and friendly and
his sister was protective. She made it clear to me that I had better look
after her baby brother or I would be in trouble. We stayed a few days in
Bangkok, visiting them and letting Toy show me round the tourist
attractions. The floating market on the river was an exciting adventure,
and the Royal palace was beautiful. I remember Toy being so proud that the
King was the longest ruling monarch in the world, longer even than our
Queen Elizabeth. We went to Pattya for some beach time and the wonderful
fun filled gay area. We stayed in the Nippa Lodge, right on the beach. We
played badminton, swam in the pool and the sea, and I sunbathed. Toy
didn't; to him a dark skin meant "peasant," that is... someone who worked
outdoors; he couldn't be confused with them, so he stayed under a beach
umbrella and read; he was always reading. No doubt that was the reason he
was so good at his course subjects. He never ceased to please me with his
enthusiastic approach to life, always appearing to be happy, and I very
quickly fell in love with him.

Both of us were almost virgins in sexual experience; we had both played
around at school, but just normal boy/boy experimentation, so our
lovemaking became a voyage of discovery for both of us. It was ages before
we got beyond the basics of mutual hand jobs, and blowjobs were magical
when they happened. The big one was a long time in coming... Toy was so
small, and I was worried about hurting him. Eventually, he wanted it more
than me so we tried it. The result was a bucket of tears from him, and a
vow that he would be mine forever, now that I had taken his virginity. I'm
sure every first timer says something similar so I didn't set much store by
the words.

During my time in prison, I just hoped that he would find another lover to
look after him in our big bad world. I determined as we drove towards
Cambridge that I would use my time before college started to find out what
happened to him. I had contact details for his sister, so if they hadn't
changed I should be able to find out what I wanted to know.

I held my breath as the locksmith gained entry for me and stood back. I
opened the door, and the first thing that struck me was the smell. It took
me back to my childhood... days spent in the country roaming in the woods
and fields on camping trips. It smelt of summer, lilacs, and freshly mown
grass. I turned to my foreign office escort with a bemused look on my
face. He had picked up on it as well, having been informed that he might
well have to take me to a hotel to start with. He just shrugged. From the
entrance hall I walked into the lounge; it was neat and tidy, clean as a
whistle, with fresh flowers on display, and looking round the walls I could
see landscape posters of Thailand, all neatly framed. The remainder of the
flat was the same...immaculate. The bedroom told me what my mind was
finding hard to accept. On the bedside table was a picture of Toy and me
taken at the Royal Palace in Bangkok the Easter of my visit, and on the
other side a picture of his parents and sister. I sat down with a bump. Toy
was still in residence, but how?

I recovered my composure and told my escort I would be fine. Not to worry
about keys...I had the feeling they would appear sometime today; if not, I
would telephone for the locksmith to return with a new lock. When they had
gone, I rummaged around to see what else there was. The wardrobe and chest
of drawers in the master bedroom were as before...all my clothes neatly
hung and stored, all smelling fresh. They would, of course, be too big for
me until I put my weight back, but that was going to save me a load of
money replacing what I thought had been lost. The kitchen cupboards were
full of Thai herbs and spices, lots of fresh food in the refrigerator and I
noted a total lack of alcohol. Good boy...he hadn't changed. I sat back in
the lounge and pondered why he was still here, four years, so he was twenty
now to my twenty-three. He should have finished his course so why was he
still in England?

It was late afternoon when I heard a key in the lock. I stood up and
waited. He appeared in the doorway and saw me. I thought he was going to
faint he looked so shocked. Neither of us moved for what seemed like an
eternity before he suddenly burst into tears and fell to his knees.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please forgive me."

**************************************************************************