Date: Fri, 5 Apr 2019 19:13:09 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Queen Mary Bell Boys Chapter 142 Queen Mary Bell-boys by badboi666 =============================================================================== If sex with boys isn't your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you've come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with 14-year-olds then make yourself comfortable - you're in the right place. Don't leave, however, without doing this: Donate to Nifty - these buggers may do it for love but they still have to eat. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html =============================================================================== Chapter 142 The eight of us were in the lounge getting a very nice dry sherry down us when Kevin appeared to summon us at 1930 (Kevin uses the same time as we do). Places had been set round the big table which can hold 12, so 10 was comfortable. I noticed that Charlie and Kevin were at the end nearest the kitchen and that someone - Charlie? Kevin? - had arranged it that George sat beside the boy. Then it went Javid, Nigel; Sam and Tim at the other end; Graham, Prince and me next to Charlie: all just as it should be. When we were all sitting down Kevin went through and he and Charlie returned with 10 bowls of turtle soup. The rest of the sherry bottle appeared and Kevin went round adding just the right amount to each bowl of soup. It was Prince who asked what on earth was going on. I wasn't going to say anything, and nor was Charlie. Kevin was bursting to, but wisely kept his mouth shut. It was Javid who explained, Javid who had been behind the scenes on Queen Mary and had presumably come across this unlikely combination in the ordering of supplies. "Some Lord Mayor of London way back in the Middle Ages was either drunk or careless and spilt his sherry into his soup. Rather than look a complete idiot he pretended he'd done it deliberately, and all the other bigwigs, rather than look like peasants who didn't know any better, thought this was the latest fashion and tipped their sherry into their soup too. And it works - try it. But it's got to be turtle soup. This is delicious, boys, did you have to buy a whole turtle?" Charlie and Kevin exchanged a complicit smile, but not a word was said. "At least, that's what Ryan told me," added Javid after a while. Soup was followed by a poached salmon with salad, tiny potatoes and mayonnaise, doubtless the reason for Kevin's being occupied all day. Salmon isn't easy to get just right, and once it's cooked it has to cool completely before any attempt is made to decorate it: it was clever of Kevin to choose something that took that long that could be bought that morning. Once it was all borne in we helped ourselves from the side table. I had been briefed that it was going to be fish, so I got up a few bottles of a nice Chablis. Charlie and Kevin sat down and we all dug in. I was secretly very pleased with Kevin's planning: hot soup, cold main course, all requiring little or no absence from the table apart from bringing it in. I wondered what was still to come. My wine briefing had included a claret and a pudding wine, so cheese and a sweet of some kind. There are two schools of thought about the order in which these should be served, but I liked to adopt a pragmatic stance: if the sweet was just a few mouthfuls then it should come first, if not, not. Like the others I would have to wait and see. Kevin excused himself while seconds of salmon were enjoyed by one or two of our guests, but when everyone was done Charlie bore everything away. He even came back to tidy up the bits and - a la Queen Mary - put the eating irons for the next courses in the right places Sweet first, then. I went to the sideboard to get the pudding wine. Charlie came in quietly and sat down. "This is 100% his," he whispered to me. Kevin came in bearing a Bombe Alaska, setting it down with great care in front of Charlie. "Why me?" "Because I want you to see whether it's all right before it gets cut up, Charlie." "I remember this," said Javid, "Charlie, you made one that first time Sir gave us all a fancy meal on our first voyage." "It was my first one, and this is Kevin's. Kevin, it looks fine, why don't you serve it now." I put the pudding wine away - it doesn't go with ice cream, but later it would find its way back no doubt. Kevin's creation was admired and - such is the way with such things - quickly demolished. "How did you manage to make that in the few minutes you were away?" asked Prince, who had missed out on the earlier occasion as he was undergoing his ordeal at Edward's hands. "Easy," said Kevin, "the prep takes quarter of an hour and I did all that this afternoon. I put the oven on before I brought the salmon in. Whipping the egg whites and banging the thing in the over took 5 minutes only. The trouble is, as Charlie told me, that it can be a catastrophe if you're not careful." "And Kevin's careful," I said, "we've taught him well." Charlie and I pride ourselves on our cheese. Back in those days most restaurants were unimaginative with their "biscuits and cheese", offering a bit of Cheddar or boring Danish Blue. We had had our eyes opened by the way any half-decent French restaurant went about it, and luckily there was a good cheese shop in Aylesbury. That day we had six cheeses, an ample supply of good crusty bread and a pretty good claret. Coffee, nuts, more claret and the pudding wine filled the next hour, along with more conversation about the fun we'd all had on Queen Mary 30-odd years earlier. Kevin heard about Prince's adventure for the first time, and was duly impressed with how it had turned out. He had known a bit about Charlie's and my life as whores, but he knew a great deal more by the time the six of them finally struggled off to their hotel. "Be here at 0900," I reminded them, "the coach will be here then." When the four of us were left George insisted on helping to clear up. Normally Charlie would have stopped a guest, but George was special and, besides, Kevin would be helping as well. It was abundantly clear that George and Kevin were keen to get to bed - I'd been aware of hand-holding during the meal - and it was rather sweet to see George finally allowing himself to relax into a few days of sin. ***** Charlie and I were up early to make the place ready to be empty for several weeks. By 0800 all was done and breakfast was ready. I went up to knock on George's door and found them still fast asleep spooned together. I gently shook Kevin's shoulder and he quickly sat up. "What time is it?" he said quietly. "Eight." "Oh fuck, sorry, Patrick," and he bounded out of bed to get dressed. "Don't worry, Kevin, there isn't a problem." There was actually, but I'm used to seeing Kevin's good-morning problem. "You'd better have a quick shower though, because if you go back home smelling like that your mother won't be pleased." Kevin took his problem to the bathroom. I thought happily that being 16 has its merits - after a night's busy fucking he still had an erection the next morning. Happy days! George appeared not long after, looking less than wholly refreshed, but smiling happily. Charlie and Kevin were in the kitchen, so I felt no restraint in asking him about Kevin. He was completely direct. "He's gorgeous, Patrick, I shall miss him. What will he be doing when we're away?" "We're closing for 7 weeks and we'll be paying him in full of course. We'll need to be back in time for the Christmas bookings, so we're reopening on 20 December. He'll be 17 in December, but there's no sign yet of what he wants to do - Robert went to college but Kevin hasn't mentioned it. Charlie thinks he's got immense talent, but there's only so much we can teach him here. We've talked to the boy, but nothing's been agreed. As far as we're concerned he can stay until he's 18 at least, but it's really his decision." George said nothing. Breakfast appeared and that was that. The other six appeared with more cases than you could shake a stick at. Luckily it wasn't raining so they were left on the pavement until the coach arrived a few minutes later and loading began. Charlie and I had a last look round. George and Kevin were having a last - and prolonged - hug. It was obvious that they were fond of each other. We hugged Kevin as well. "Enjoy your break," said Charlie, "we'll be back on 19 December, and opening the next day. See you then." Kevin nodded. We left him standing on the pavement. ***** It was rather fun boarding Queen Mary as passengers, as distinct from bell boys. They didn't have bell boys any more, of course. To our delight they'd given us vastly grander accommodation that any of us had expected - after all, we were lower down the pecking order than any other of the pre-war crew members. Charlie and I were in 721, the stateroom in which Slim had been my first client. The coincidence was far too great ... no, I decided, it wasn't coincidence. Sir must be on board and must have kept meticulous records from over 30 years earlier. Our Steward appeared and introduced himself. "Which of you is Mr Mulloy?" "I'm Patrick Mulloy," I said, "and as a former bell boy I'm Patrick, and this is Charlie MacKenzie." "Charlie." The Steward - Luis (who explained he came from Barcelona) - gave me an envelope. Luis said he would return when our cases were brought up. When he'd gone Charlie and I exchanged one of those intimate looks that married couples have, and each of us briefly shook our heads. Luis would be untroubled by us. "What's in the message?" I opened the envelope and read it. "James is on board and we're invited to drinks with him at 1800. I suppose we'll all be there. I wonder who else we'll know." We would find out soon enough - it was then only 1500. The other seven were in four staterooms on Decks 6 and 7, so we were all accommodated in equal splendour. Over the years most of us had visited enough staterooms to know what to expect, and although the interiors had been refurbished a good few times since 1939 the rooms themselves were familiar enough. ***** Sir - James - was, as befitted a senior officer, on Deck 9 where he had a small suite. Charlie knocked gently. "Come." We both grinned. "It's just like old times," said Charlie as we went in. James was looking well - he must have been in his late 70s then - and he welcomed us with open arms. Prince and Graham were already there, as was George. The other four were only a minute or two behind us. An interestingly young steward was getting our drinks, and James noticed that several (but not all) pairs of eyes were drawn to him. "Calm down, boys, there's plenty for everyone," said our host. This was unexpected, but not unwelcome. I wondered, not for the first time, whether James (although this was more Sir-like behaviour) had been doing his homework. Drinks were handed out and the interestingly young steward went into the other room. "Welcome to you all. It's been a long time, and we're all a lot older. Shall we sit?" Suites were well-equipped with sofas, I noticed. My earlier experiences had naturally been more oriented towards bedrooms and shower rooms. "We're here for 39 days, as you know. Tomorrow is a formal dinner night, and it would be a shame to miss that. However, I've made a reservation for a private dinner in the Mauretania Room the following night at 2000, and I hope you'll all be there. A great deal has happened to all of us since we last all met, and I want to hear what all of you have been up to. I'd like to suggest we meet here each evening for drinks and stories at 1800." Murmurs of assent were heard. "Well then, long ago we did some things in alphabetical order, I recall. Tragically, as we all know, Alan and Andrew were killed at sea on Active Service. Gentlemen, shall we stand for a moment and remember them." "No less tragically another of our original group of bell boys - Roger - was killed in the War. More recently Vincent was killed in Spain trying to save a boy from being stabbed. George, none of us can begin to imagine the suffering you have undergone. Shall we stand again to remember Roger and Vincent." When James went on less formally there was a sigh of relief. "There are nine of you," he said, "so Charlie, entertain us." You know what Charlie and I have been up to since the end of the War, and I don't need to go through it again. When he'd finished James asked the critical question. "I shall ask each of you, and it would make sense if I did so this evening. It will, after all, have a bearing on the entertainment, shall I say, throughout the voyage. Charlie, and Patrick too, when you were whores, as you liked to think of yourselves, you were happy to enjoy the company of older gentlemen: what is your current practice?" Charlie looked at me and I nodded. "Patrick and I have been wholly faithful to each other for donkey's years - since we were paid off - and neither of us has any interest in fucking anybody else. We make a big exception though, and that is, as it always was, boys. We employ a boy - we have employed three now - and he shares our bed. Should a boy present himself on Queen Mary then we would be keen to make his acquaintance." Charlie, like James, could be pompous when he felt like it. I felt the need to add a little detail, and a little colour too. "James, your drinks boy would come into our category of 'boy', but he'd be at the upper end of the range." James grinned. "I hoped someone would feel like that." Prince said that he and Graham weren't interested in sex with anyone else. "We've not had the opportunities you two have, and although we have a succession of houseboys we long ago decided that if we laid a finger on them we'd be likely to be cut to pieces by outraged fathers, brothers, you bloody name it. So we'll just stick with each other." "And do so without regret," added Graham with a grin, "just being able to make love without fear is a huge benefit, believe me." Sam and Tim professed themselves entirely happy to fuck anyone who showed any degree of willingness to be fucked "up to, let's say, our age," said Tim. James, if he felt any regret, managed not to show it, but I felt that James was playing the pander, rather than the lover, here. That left Javid and Nigel and, of course, George. The Chicago pair, it was made clear, were like Charlie and me. "Anything up to 20 or so," said Javid, "would make a welcome treat." All eyes turned to George. "As I'm next to tell you all my story tomorrow," he said, "why don't I leave it till then. I need time." James looked pleased. I wondered what was up his sleeve. No doubt he'd tell us when he felt like it, and not a moment sooner. "It will be nice, and a great deal more civilized, to be meeting at 1800, rather than 0915," he said. The drinks boy came back - had he been discreetly summoned? - and our glasses were refreshed. As Dinner was at 1930 we all drifted away - you need a piss before Dinner at our age after a drink or three. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 143 as the final voyage continues, George tells his story, and we meet in the Mauretania Room. I'm conscious that, although George and Kevin have spent two nights in bed together, no lurid descriptions have appeared. Your patience will be rewarded. None of the sexual goings-on between 1945 and 1967 have been described as few (apart from those involving Robert and Kevin) were known to me. But back on Queen Mary who knows what may befall nine ex-bell boys? The photographs in Queen Mary 2 are real. I saw them while making a transatlantic crossing in 2017, and the boy I describe as "me" is really cute. I'm sure he had adventures ... I will be reacquainting myself with these pictures in Queen Mary 2 when I make another pair of Atlantic crossings in a week's time. There will be a three-week pause in the adventures of our eight friends. Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped nifty a few quid. =============================================================================