Date: Wed, 12 Dec 2018 22:39:45 +0000
From: Jonah
Subject: Letter from America Chapter 1

A Letter from America

The usual disclaimers apply. No character in this story is a real person,
so if you think you spot any resemblance to anybody living or dead, you are
in error, however several characters deliberately resemble characters
created by another author.  All my characters live in England, but, if you
want to know more about their American visitors, you can visit the story A
Neglected Boy, by Jacob Lion, currently serialised by Nifty on the"Gay
Adult/Youth" site , or visit https://jacoblion.weebly.com/

Please consider donating to Nifty - keep this site going.

Chapter one:  The Letter

It was the Professor who started it.  Peter brought in the Air Mail
envelope and placed it carefully on my desk.  He'd never seen one before
and you could see that he was excited.

"It's from America Jonah".

"Yes I can see that Peter", I responded.

"Aren't you going to open it"

I sighed and picked up the blue envelope.

"Do I stand a chance of being allowed to finish this layout if I don't", I
said.

"Noooooooo" shouted the nine year-old, leaping into my lap, not TOTALLY
unexpectedly.

It was still a novelty to have this cute, black-haired, asiatic-looking
bundle of fun climbing over me.  If he'd troubled to put some clothes on
first it would have been even more of a novelty, but Peter,and his thirteen
year old brother Simon, didn't work like that.  Of course, I wasn't an
over-dresser myself, but the boys would be naked day and night if I let
them. I'd become their legal guardian not six months previously when their
father was killed by a knife-wielding madman, who'd subequently fallen on
his own knife.  I'd been at school with Vijay Khan, and had been surprised
when he joined the police force.  I suppose it was more exciting than my
life as a design artist for an advertising agency.  I expect Vijay was the
token Asiatic on the force. The Met went in for things like that.  The
boys' mother had died in childbirth, though I don't think anybody had ever
told Peter that.  I doubt even Simon knew.  I certainly wasn't going to be
the one.  Vijay had brought the boys up well, but, with no surviving
relatives,it would be orphanage or foster care. Imagine my surprise when I
found that Vijay had named me as guardian if anything ever happened to him.
We had not even been close.  A few shared confidences at school, and a few
drinks in pubs in later life.  Hell,he even knew why I had never married.

I tickled the writhing boy within an inch of his life - well perhaps not
within an inch of his life,though you'd think so from the noise he was
making.  The bottoms of Peter's little feet were so soft and cute - and SO
ticklish - and his laughter was infectious. Suddenly I flipped him the
right way up and set him down on the floor.

"Go get your brother up.  It might be Saturday but he can't lay in bed all
day."

"But I wanna....."

"GO !"

He went.

That meant I could open the letter from America.

It was from the Professor.  That's right - capital P and no surname.  Of
course he had a surname - I even knew what it was-but I had never known
anybody to use it.  I bet it's a long time since he knew anybody use it.
He was a real Professor - at Yale - and though I'd never been to America, I
met the Professor during my time at Cambridge.  He'd been on a secondment
studying world history and leading a special project.  One of my fellow
students had been invoved in a very unpleasant incident and the Professor
and I had teamed up to clear his name.  He was good at many things but,
above all he was a superb judge of character, and an expert at seeing and
bringing out the best in people.

Having read his letter, I read it again, just to see if it was any easier
to believe the second time round.  I have never practised believing six
impossible things before breakfast, and - believe me -that does take
practice.

It seems that one of his students has adopted two boys,and he wants them to
see a bit of the world.  They were planning to come to London at Christmas
and put up at some posh hotel, but the Professor had told them that it
would be better to see the real England rather than the tourists' one. To
that end he had suggested that they stay with me.  Gee thanks!  I could
think of all kinds of arguments against it.  All right, the Professor had
pointed out that they'd be paying for their board and lodging so it might
pay for the boys and I to get out more.  Well that wouldn't be bad.  There
are lots of things I'd like to do if I could afford it.  Take the boys to
see some G & S perhaps, I'd love to introduce them to that, or Carols at
Kings, but what if the Yanks aren't into that sort of thing?  And I live
with my boys in a two bedroom flat above a shop in Harrow, minutes from
Rayner's Lane tube station.  Would this Jake sleep with me while four boys
roomed together.  Hmmmm!  Or would I have to move in with my boys while
Jake slept with his?  I bet it won't be what they're used to.  If the
movies are anything to go by, Americans always seem to have bigger houses.
I'll have to think about it - over breakfast.

Breakfast.

"Simon, I don't expect you boys to be fully dressed all the time, but can
you please put some underpants on at breakfast?"

Simon rolled his eyes, but he got up and left the room.  Teenagers!  Three
minutes later he was back,having put on not only a skimpy pair of
underpants that left nothing to the imagination, but a T shirt so tight
that you could see his nipples.  Damn but he looked sexier dressed like
that than he had in the nude -and his feet were still bare because he knew
that would turn me on.

"Jonah, when are these American boys coming?"

I put down the bread that I had been feeding into the toaster and walked
round the counter till I was virtually toe to toe with him.

"Simon I've spoken to you about this before. That is a private letter.  I
sent you to put some clothes on, not to rifle my desk.  What were you doing
in my room anyway?"

"Huh! You never tell us anything".

I sighed.  This showed all the signs of an impending argument.  I didn't
want an argument.  It wasn't just that Simon, like his little brother, was
such a dish that I couldn't be cross with him for long, but he really
wasn't a bad kid.  All right he was moody, but what teenager isn't ?  but
you always got the impression,when he was at his most obnoxious,that his
heart wasn't in it.  I was getting that impression now. I crouched so that
I could look straight into those irresistable brown eyes.

Simon, I know it sucks being a teenager, in a dump like this, where there
is so much that you want that you can't have.  It's bad for Peter, and it's
bad for you, but you're a teenager.  You're nearly grown up.  When you are
grown up you'll want more privacy, and I hope, when your little brother
reads your private letters, that you'll remember not to shout at him, just
like I'm not shouting now.  Sit down!"

The tears in his eyes might have been remorse,or even anger, as he got up
to flee from the room, but my order had arrested his flight.

"Your breakfast will be ready in a moment."

"Are the Americans coming Jonah"

The question didn't have Peter's usual excitement to lend it impetus- he
was upset by seeing his big brother in tears - but it made up my mind for
me. I wanted to give these two boys so much, more than I was able to.