Date: Mon, 17 Dec 2018 09:30:34 +0000
From: Jonah
Subject: Letter From America    Chapter 6

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/     If you wish
to send feedback to me, you can email me at lfa4321jonah@outlook.com

Please consider donating to Nifty - keep this site going.
http.//donate.nifty.org/donate.html


Chapter Six.  The Lord's Day

I opened my eyes. My back was to Jake, and I could feel the warm soles of
his feet pressing on my calves.  In front of my face was the broadest smile
I have ever seen.

Good morning!" said Kori.

"He hugged me tightly till our noses nearly touched.  Making the embrace
mutual I hugged him and laid my cheek alongside his.

"Morning Kori" I responded.  "Where's Simon?"

"He had to go to the bathroom to pee," he replied matter-of-factly.

I wondered if that was when Kori had changed ends.  Simon slid quietly
through the door.

"Room for a little one?" he said quietly

" It's not so little" said Kori, earning him a sudden frown from
Simon. Evidently that wasn't something Kori had permission to discuss in
front of me.  I smiled quickly to let him know it was OK, whilst pulling
Kori even closer to make room.  Simon looked doubtfully at the remaining
space.

"I'll climb in the bottom so long as you two won't tickle my feet",he
suggested.

"Oh I wasn't thinking of tickling you", I responded.

"He was hugging my feet when I woke up," said Kori.  "It was cool".

"It felt warm from where I was", I said, not willing to let Kori talk about
me rather than to me.

"I mean it felt good",he said with another of his radiant smiles.

That was when Simon forced his bare feet between us in an effort to break
up our hug.  I siezed the nearest foot.

"We did promise not to tickle these?",I asked Kori, as if for confirmation.

"Uh huh!" he replied, siezing the other foot and waiting to see if I
intended to break the promise.

"Then we won't tickle him", I said, "hang on to that one and do what I do"

I held Simon's right foot in both hands with my thumbs pressing in the
arch.Kori held the left one.  Gently, and keeping up a firm pressure so as
not to tickle, I manipulated the soft flesh in the arch, working forward to
the ball of his foot. Kori lovingly mirrored my actions. Slipping my
forefinger under Simon's beautifully curled toes, I began to manipulate the
flesh under the ball of his foot.  Then I began flexing the toes, first all
together, then separately.  I supported the heel with my left hand whilst
manipulating the flesh on the pad of each toe. Carefully and gently I
manipulated the Achilles tendon and then the ankle, finishing by massaging
the bridge of the metatarsals. I lifted my head and discovered that Simon
had simply laid back and was enjoying the attention.  After a few moments
he began massaging Kori's feet.  Kori, unable to hug me because of Simon's
action simply lay back and let it happen.

"I suppose I shouldn't ask what you guys are doing", said Jake.

"Aw, we're just pleasuring ourselves," said Kori, "and not how you think
neither".

"Wasn't thinking nothing" replied Jake,in a rare double-negative, "so long
as you boys are happy".

Kori sat up and beamed. It lit up the room, but Jake, having his back to
Kori, was oblivious - or was he?  I noticed the soles of his feet were
still pressed on my calves.  Perhaps that wasn't accidental either.

"We'll shower in a moment then breakfast in half an hour," announced Kori.

"Is Simon making breakfast with you again" Jake asked.

"I thought Liam can if he's awake", Kori replied.

There was a sudden scuffle the other side of Jake.  Liam was not only
awake, but animated. Only one thing was on his mind: "Can I shower with
you?"  "Well it's a bit tight in Jonah's shower", said Kori, "but I reckon
we could do it".  "Kori, didn't we talk about that?" said Jake.  The sun
went in.  "Sorry Jonah", mumbled Kori.  "Hey!" , I told him, "we're
friends, and friends don't easily get upset over a thing like that.  It's
cool Kori, and Jake - quit worrying".

Kori grinned suddenly and it was definitely like the sun coming out again.
As for Jake, his feet left my calves as he turned himself over and pulled
me into a warm embrace. I was impaled on his morning erection,but there was
a bit of a sword fight going on down there anyway.  I got a quick kiss on
the forehead.

"That's a hug for a friend", he told me as Liam and Kori scurried to the
bathroom.

If anything breakfast was even more sumptuous than on Saturday.  I
obviously underestimated how much we had bought at the Food Centre.  Mind
you, it was noticeable that, while the American contingent simply hoovered
up whatever was on their plates, my boys were not far behind them.  If my
boys developed American appetites, could that be the downside to this?  No
it couldn't.  To have found three such good friends and to spend time in
their company was all good, for all of us.  Then the washing up.  Kori,
Liam and Jake, had noted our mini-victory of the night before, and had
clearly resolved that there would not be a repetition.  There was no way,
on this Sunday morning that any of us would be allowed near our own sink.
I tried to point out that I HAD to be allowed in, because only an
Englishman knew how to properly make tea.  This was greeted with derision.
Apparently the American idea of tea making is the ONLY proper way and the
English have lost the art.  Apparently English tea is of too liquid a
consistency and tea leaves which have not been marinaded in the waters of
Boston Harbour are not fit to bear the title.The good humour with which
they rebutted every attempt on our part to gain access to our own kitchen
had to be seen to be believed.  You just can't help loving these people.  I
had wondered whether they would want to accompany us to Church, but I
needn't have worried.  They are no strangers to Church and, since we will
almost certainly be singing carols, were looking forward to it.

Cannon Lane Methodist Church is actually in Pinner and is not one of your
prepossessing edifices.  It is certainly not the most imposing Church in
the Greater London Area.  It could easilly be mistaken for a provincial
fire station.  A low 1960s square block of a church hall is separated by a
modern entrance hall from an equally low 21st century Church.  Another
smaller square block proudly claims to be a coffee shop.  It is a place for
worship,and it is a place where God can be sought and found.  As we walked
down Church Avenue and crossed theYeading Brook that separates North Harrow
from Pinner, the mood was one of anticipation.  Both of my boys had been
brought up as Christians and both had their own brand of the Christian
faith.  The three of us often disagreed about the tenet's of our
faith,which is why they had followed me into the Methodist Church, instead
of remaining in the Church of England.  The thing that we all agreed on,
God's love for us and his commandment to love one another, is at the core
of Methodist ideology to the extent that we are virtually allowed to differ
on everything else.  There is always a warm welcome for everybody at Cannon
Lane, and Jake and his boys were soon at home there.  The service was
almost the traditional Methodist hymn sandwich, and the five hymns chosen
by the minister who led our worship were traditional carols.  I've always
suspected that ministers trot out their favourite carols on such occasions
and this lady didn't let us down.  Her theme seemed to be angels, whch felt
appropriate since I had brought four of them to Church with me.  She had
chosen to start with Hark the herald angels sing, then the Sunday School
children sang Away in a manger.  Then it was, Angels from the realms of
Glory, Cradled in manger meanly, and to finish up, It came upon a midnight
clear.

I often find tears in my eyes when I sing "Cradled in a manger meanly", the
words move me so.  After the service we moved into the hall for coffee and
hot mince pies, (sherry would cost too much and we're not allowed alcohol
on Methodist premises anyway).  Everybody wanted to talk to their American
visitors, especially the Sunday-School children who couldn't get enough of
Liam,but that seemed to be mutual.  As soon as we decently could we took
our leave and headed for Rayner's Lane tube. This time we caught a
Piccadilly line train to Ealing Common, where we changed into a District
line train to Embankment.  From here we used the Eastern Millenium Walk,
attached to Hungerford Railway Bridge, to cross the Thames.  As we crossed
we got a good view of the City ofLondon almost to St Pauls. The London Eye
towers above us, and the HQS Wellington lies moored below. There is an
empty train stabled in the centre siding on the bridge so it is not until
we are half way over that we can glance through the girders of the railway
bridge and the,steelwork of the Western Millenium Walkway, to spot the
Houses of Parliament by the riverside.  We descended the steps on the other
side of the river and turned left toward the London Eye.

"Arewe going on theEye",Peter wantedto know.

"The show isn't till half past two,so we should have time" I told him.

We paid and got tickets for a"flight" on the Eye, then entered one of the
slowly moving capsules.  Within a minute or so we were ascending and the
vista of London began to unfold below us.  The Eye is a big ferris wheel
and has good views over London.  It is possible to see the spires of
St. Pancras to Northwards.  The Telecomm tower is even easier to spot.
Most of the City of London can be seen huddled around the river bank.
Beyond Tower Bridge the river faded into mist.  I wondered whether, on a
clearer day, it might be possible to see all the way to the Thames Flood
Control Barrier. Slowly we swung over the top and began the descent.  We
alighted at the bottom and made our way back along thebank towards
Hungerford Bridge.  We walked through the subway under the railway viaduct.
Passing through the plaza of the Royal Festival Hall we crossed over to the
front of Waterloo Station.  High above us, on the viaduact was Waterloo
East on the line we had so recently followed from Charing Cross, on the
other side of the river.  We enter Waterloo Station by the impressive
Victory Arch.  Waterloo, is the largest railway station in the world, by
number of platforms.  It has twenty one platforms in this train-shed and
there are another five in the former Waterloo international station.  Then
there are two on the viaduct at Waterloo East, and another two below us
serving the Waterloo and City tube. giving thirty platforms in all.  There
are also the platforms belonging to the London Undeground, but nobody
counts those.  Before the war there was also the platform of the Waterloo
Necropolis Station, from which funeral trains left for Brookwood Cemetery.
Fascinating as all this is we are not immediately concerned with the
railway.  At the back of the station forecourt are the premises of Burger
King.  We reason that a burger and fries will sustain us until we can get a
proper meal in the evening.  When I say that we are not immediately
concerned with the railway, of course that is to forget that we have four
young boys with us. These are boys with lively inquiring minds,and a
fascination for, and interest in, everything.  Peter, in particular, has
always been in love with things that move on rails.  Since the Thomas
theTank Engine books came back into fashion,he has been particularly
enamoured of things that move on rails and belch smoke.  He is quick to
point out that among the electric multiple units(?) that clatter in and
out, we can distinctly hear the stutter of a diesel engine.  A class33 (he
assures me) that has worked in on an excursion.  Burgers consumed we drag
Peter out while we are still able.  The others follow.  Outside the station
the arches of the former South Eastern Railway viaduct have been rented out
for various purposes and one of them is the headquarters of an importer and
dealer in fine coffee beans.  The aroma on the Station Approach is
delicious.  We walked down Waterloo Road to the Old Vic Theatre.  We had
tickets for the Matinee performance of Charles Dickens"A Christmas Carol".

We didn't discuss who was going to sit where.  We just ended up with Jake
sitting between my two boys, and I sitting between his.I had Kori sitting
on my right side and Liam on my left, beyond Liam were Peter, Jake and
Simon.  Nobody suggested it.  We had just grown to like each other so much
that it seemed natural.  Now it was not unexpected that Liam should cling
to my arm when the ghost of Jacob Marley appeared. In fact the other ghosts
appeared suddenly and startled him, but I would not have expected such
behaviour from Kori.  No, nor did I, for a moment, believe it.  Of course,
he must have known that I didn't mind.  It was a moving performance, and I
noticed Jake crying along with Bob Cratchit on the loss of Tiny Tim. It was
noticeable that the ghosts occasionally were obliged to speak the lines
that Dickens put in that were not dialogue, but of course, the Ghost of
Chrismas that is yet to Come (a title that raised a wicked smile from Kori)
was a mute ghost so any stage directions and observations from Dickens at
that point had to be spoken by Scrooge or go unspoken.

The Spirit of Christmas affected all of us as Dickens intended. It was a
merry crew that left the theatre and headed for Hungerford Bridge.  A merry
crew leaned on the parapet of the Eastern Millenium Walkway and gazed at
the beauty of the London River by Night.  A Merry Crew clattered and
rattled its way to Rayners Lane tube station and a merrier rifled Rayners
Food Centre.  It was a given by this time that the boys and I were not
about to cook.  We were simply not allowed, but the repast that followed
only heightened our merriment.  Then we were early (ish) to bed,for we had
a train to catch in the morning.