THE AUDITION

A boy and a man: nothing happens but things are talked about, things that you may not be supposed to read about, and if that is the case, then proceed with care, if at all.

 

The blacked out rehearsal room of a studio theatre, featureless and empty; empty apart from him sitting in a comfortable swivel chair, a well-upholstered version of the sort of chair provided for people who sat all day in front of computer screens, and, twenty feet away, a one-metre black cube, invisible in the darkness.

In a minute or two, precisely thirty seconds after a bell had given a warning note, a single fresnel lamp would illuminate that box and on it, or beside it, there would be a boy about to give his audition piece for a Scholarship at the Henry Tree Stage School. What that boy did and said in the next five, ten or even thirty minutes would decide if he was to be one of the select few, a very select few as the Henry Tree Stage School accepted only six boys each year.

The School was unique, founded by Sir Henry Tree himself some eighty years ago for `Boys of sufficient talent and skill to become esteemed members of the theatrical profession regardless of their origins,' and because Sir Henry had been concerned with talent and not with social class or background, each and every boy was a Scholarship boy, all receiving the same free boarding and education in the converted Georgian house set in gently rolling Wiltshire countryside.

"You are all equal till some have proved themselves more equal than others," Sir Henry had boomed at his students, always a man to use the words of another and make them sound his own, a basic skill of his profession the boys would need to learn.

And they had been then and still were, even in this modern age of political correctness and gender equality, all boys.

Sir Henry had been convinced that the standard of theatrical performance had begun a now irreversible decline when women were allowed on that stage; the Greeks, who founded theatre, hadn't allowed it, and the Great Bard himself wrote Juliet to be played by a boy because he knew that only a boy could convey the hopeless ardour of forbidden love with any conviction.

True that Sir Henry's interest in boys had been more than simply Thespian, but that had merely advanced his theatrical belief, not been the cause of it.

Now Julian Panne had the task of making this year's selection, deciding which six of the fifty or so boys who had applied were to be chosen, and though he, like the late benefactor, Sir Henry, had an interest in boys that was far more than simply Thespian, he never allowed that interest to guide his judgement.

Of course, some boys attracted his interest more than others, but a boy's initial physical attraction meant nothing if that was all a boy had to offer, and Julian dutifully eliminated each and every boy he found his only interest in was the undisclosed and undiscovered contents of his underwear; a boy needed more than just a cock to perform the works of Shakespeare.

The bell sounded and Julian prepared himself to be both bored and interested; bored in all probability by the teenage attempt at performance, and interested perhaps by the teenage performer.

There were no rules, no set piece to perform, and all the boys had received the same instruction and information; the only prop they had was that black cube and their time was unlimited. It was entirely up to them what they did, some improvised and some delivered set speeches, some lasted only a few minutes, others longer.

Precisely thirty seconds after the bell the single stage light came up, illuminating the black cube and Julian was slightly surprised to see a boy sitting on that cube, as though he was sitting on a wall somewhere, idly swinging one dangling leg and staring into space.

It was certainly a mark in the boy's favour that he had got himself soundlessly into that position in the complete dark; he'd clearly memorised the position of the box and the number of steps it would take him to reach it and arrange himself on it without making a sound.

There didn't seem, at first sight, to be anything particularly special about the boy, apart from his ability to get himself where he was, and Julian waited patiently for the boy to begin his act.

And the boy did nothing!

He simply sat on that box, one leg slightly swinging and staring into space.

It takes a lot of skill, or serious natural talent, for an actor to be alone on a stage, do and say nothing and still hold an audience's attention, but this boy was doing just that. The lack of movement, apart from that one gently swinging leg, the fixed stare, were part of whatever performance the boy had planned, and Julian found himself waiting with increasing curiosity to find just what the performance was.

As he waited and watched he began to take more notice of the boy and all his instincts told him that this was exactly what he was supposed to do; to look at the boy and think about him, who he was and what was he doing.

He was nothing particularly special, just boy number forty-seven, and that was all Julian knew about him, no name, no details of any sort, just the number, and that deliberate so there could be no question of any outside influences, any prejudices to affect Julian's decision making.

Black hair, Julian noted, worn long at the back, down to the collar and at the sides so the ears were covered. Not untidy, though, well cut and groomed, even styled a little so it was gently waved.

Age was difficult to determine; a mid-teen boy in polo shirt and jeans might be anything from quite early fourteen to mid-sixteen, hard to tell even if seen in the street. A look at his pubic hair might reveal more information, Julian couldn't help thinking, though that, even if natural and untrimmed, was a less accurate dating method than tree growth rings.

Slender, perhaps even edging towards skinny, and he seemed to have nice long legs, though that also was hard to determine as the boy was sitting.

That Julian's thoughts were inclined towards the erotic was nothing unusual; he was looking at and thinking about a boy, and for Julian, boys inspired erotic thoughts just because they were boys. Not all boys, but certainly slim, mid-teen ones always had Julian casually wondering what they had between their legs and whether what they had there was worth sucking.

None of those observations and thoughts would have any influence on Julian's decision, but as he had nothing else to do at the moment except look at the boy on the box, Julian looked and wondered.

Slowly, while he was contemplating the desirable possibility of the boy's legs being hairless – a distinct possibility if the boy was at the lower end of his age estimate, and more than a possibility if the boy had blue eyes to go with his black hair, a combination that for some reason unknown to Julian, brought with it a tendency towards the smooth rather than the hairy, Julian began to realise that he was doing exactly what the boy wanted him to do. He was thinking about the boy and not wondering what it was the boy was going to eventually perform because the boy was already performing; he was doing the most difficult and dangerous thing any actor can attempt, to hold the attention of an audience by doing nothing.

As though Julian's realisation was a cue, the boy's lips began to move; no sound, just moving lips as if the boy were on the point of vocalising his thoughts and Julian strained to hear those thoughts even though there was nothing to hear.

"He's staring at you," the boy said very quietly, knowing his words would carry even though soft and quiet, "What's so fascinating about a boy sitting on a box?"

"Don't know," the boy answered himself, "Perhaps he just likes boys on boxes."

"What you gonna do about it?"

"Nothing. Got to wait here, ain't I?"

"But he's staring at you."

"So what? Let him, if he wants to."

Gradually the boy increased his volume, carefully pronouncing most consonants, ignoring just a few and including the occasional glottal stop to make his words sound natural and boy-like without losing their sense and meaning in disordered teen-speak.

"What sort of bloke stares at a boy on a box?" he continued his conversation with himself.

"What sort of boy sits on a box?" he answered himself.

"Boy who ain't got nothing else to do and don't care all that much of some bloke's staring at him, I guess."

"You don't care? Really?"

"Nah, why should I?" The boy didn't move, apart from his gently swinging leg, but the teenage shrug was clearly evident in the tone of his words. "Ain't doing me no harm, is it?"

"Spose not."

"Why? You bothered he might fancy me?"

"Nah, course not."

"What if he does?"

"Ain't very likely, is it? Like there's loads better than me to fancy."

"Yer, that's right enough. Like Toby Miles."

"Deffo! It were him sitting here you could understand some bloke staring with his tongue hanging out."

"You would be, that's for sure. Always checking him out."

"Well, I ain't no Toby Miles, am I? Ain't got well fair hair for a starter, nor them long blond eyelashes that looks almost like they been stuck on what he flutters over his blue eyes like he was some girl."

"Have got blue eyes, though."

That comment sharpened Julian's already piqued interest; black hair and blue eyes, the possibility of very limited body hair leapt into Julian's mind.

"Yeah, and a well skinny body to go with them. What sorta bloke's gonna be interested in that?"

"Think that bloke might be," the boy dropped his voice to an almost whisper, "Can feel his eyes going all over me."

"Yeah," the boy whispered again after a moment or two when he seemed to be concentrating on trying to discover more precisely what he felt those unseen eyes were doing, "Think you're right. Don't look. Might give him the wrong idea."

"Reckon he's got that idea already," the boy managed to both whisper and snigger at the same time, "Feels like he's trying to work out what I'd look like without me clothes on."

And that was exactly what Julian was now trying to imagine!

"Like what you do when you perv on Toby."

"Ain't just on Toby. Pervs on Sandra Mills as well."

"Everyone pervs on Sandra Mills."

"Not everyone pervs on Toby, though."

"Fuck off."

"Don't it bother you?"

"What? Perving on Toby?"

"Nah, you dick head. That bloke perving on you."

"Nah. Why should it? Free country, ain't it? He wants to imagine what I'd look like starkers, ain't nothing to stop him, is there? Ain't nothing much to see anyway, is there?"

"What if he wants to do more than just look though? Wants to get his hand inside your knickers?"

"Be disappointed then, wouldn't he?"

"Yeah," a definite and distinct snigger this time, "No knickers to get inside."

"Have to be dead careful undoing the zip, though, wouldn't want to get anything caught up in it."

"Nasty," the boy agreed with himself, "Zipped foreskin. Don't bear thinking about!"

Julian barely managed to restrain a groan. The boy didn't have on any underwear and had a foreskin and almost certainly had smooth, or very nearly smooth legs! What, he wondered, was his cock like?

"Know what he's thinking now, don't you?" the boy asked himself, not whispering now.

"Same as you about Toby, probably."

"Yeah, wishing he could see inside me jeans," he answered himself, "Not that there's anything special to see."

"Oh, I dunno, it ain't that bad. What is it, about five and a bit now?"

"'Bout that I spose. Ain't measured it for a week or two, but don't spose it's grown much since then."

"Enough though, ain't it? Decent enough for wanking."

"Yeah," the boy allowed a grin to show on his face, "Was this morning, anyway."

"Who was it this morning? Toby or Sandra?"

"Toby. Wouldn't mind at all having him on me cock."

"Skin's a bit tight, though."

"Yeah, `tis, but does peel okay if you're careful with it. Don't just yank it back, like."

"Better that way for wanking, I reckon."

"Yeah, don't go much on it when it's peeled."

"What about if it were being sucked?"

"Dunno. Ain't never been sucked yet."

"Want to be?"

"Course I does."

"By Toby?"

"Nah. The bloke what's perving on you now."

"Dunno. He's a bloke, ain't he."

"Don't want to get sucked by a bloke?"

"Wouldn't say it were me first choice."

"But you ain't got nothing against it?"

"Not `specially, like. I mean, if a boy fancies getting sucked by a bloke and the bloke likes sucking boys, I ain't got nothing against that."

"Be gay, though, wouldn't it?"

"Not really. Be gay sure enough if you only wanted to get sucked by blokes, but wouldn't be gay if you was just seeing what it was like."

"Sort of just curiosity, like?"

"Yeah. Just to see if it was better than wanking. "

"Would be if it were Toby."

"Would be if it were Sandra, an' all."

"Toby be better."

"Yeah, probably would. Have some idea what to do with a cock."

"All you ever think about, ain't it?"

"What?"

"Your cock."

"Why not? Nice enough cock, ain't it? Looks pretty good on me, anyway."

"That why you shaved? Make it look better?"

Julian's mental groan this time was long and echoed in his mind, the image of a slender, five and a bit inch teen cock unblemished by pubic hairs and waiting to be sucked, a vivid picture.

"Dunno really. Just thought it'd be sexy, I spose."

"Is it?"

"Dunno. Looks sexy when you see shaved ones in porn, don't it?"

"Gay porn."

"Still porn, ain't it? Don't matter if it's gay."

"True. Girls deffo better when they ain't got no bush; dunno about boys, though."

"You rather have Toby with a bush or without?"

"Without. No question."

"Why?"

"Be much better when you sucked him, wouldn't it? Smooth balls to lick instead of hairy ones."

"There is that."

"And you can't deny it's better for wanking, smooth, can you?"

"No, that's true. And does feel well wicked being smooth."

"Specially when you don't wear no pants."

"Yeah." The boy allowed a grin to show on his face at his teenage, sexy naughtiness.

"Bet that bloke'd get a shock. Don't spose he's thinking of you with no knickers and all shaved."

"Don't spose he is."

"Would you?"

"What?"

"Do it with him?"

"Nah, not just random, like."

"What if it weren't random?"

`What? Like if he groomed me and seduced me, like?"

"Or if he paid you."

"Wouldn't do it for money."

"Bet you would. Like for a million quid."

"Course I would then. For a million quid."

"Half a million? Quarter?"

"Being silly. Who'd pay that for a skinny kid?"

"How much, then?"

"Dunno. Spose I might for a grand."

"Or a ton?"

"Do it for a tenner if I were desperate, living on the streets, like, I spose."

"You would do it, then? With a bloke?"

"What, normal, like? Not cos I were on the streets?"

"Yeah."

"Never thought about it. Never had no bloke fancy me, I don't think."

"You mind if some bloke did?"

"Fancy me?"

"Yeah."

"Nah, don't think so. Course, depend on what sort of bloke, wouldn't it. Like wouldn't want no fat bugger."

"Course not. Nah, some ordinary bloke, someone sort of your dad's age."

"Dunno. Might be a bit of a kick, I spose."

"Thinking you're sort of tasty enough for some bloke to fancy you?"

"Yeah. Could be quite nice, I spose, thinking you could turn some bloke on."

"Could just be after a bit of cock."

"Or bum."

"Quick shag and bye bye."

"Wouldn't want that. Wouldn't mind if a bloke fancied me proper, though."

"Sort of 'boyfriend' fancied you?"

"Yeah. That sort of thing. Think I could go for that."

"Being some bloke's bit on the side?"

"Spose I'd have to be, really, wouldn't I? Ain't old enough to be legal so he couldn't put a ring on me finger, could he."

"Would want to be the only one, though. Not some casual shag now and again."

"Secret boyfriend?"

"Yeah, I could go with that."

"What about the shagging bit?"

"Not straight away. Spose it'd happen eventually, but wouldn't go with a guy just to get fucked."

"But if it was real boyfriends, like?"

"Probably want it then, wouldn't I?"

"Spose so. Be well gay, though."

"Don't think so. Like if a bloke liked me enough to want to be with me, and I liked him as well, spose it's only natural that he's gonna want me cock an' I'm gonna want him to have it. Probably want his as well."

Julian, safe in the darkness, adjusted the hardness between his legs, thinking how delightful it would be to have a boy like this, a boy who could just talk openly and comfortably about his cock, say out loud the thoughts that boys have and feel no embarrassment about it.

"Dunno," the boy continued, "Would be and not be, I reckon."

"What you mean?"

"Well, like, if I were a bloke an' just wanted to get at boys' cocks and bums, then that'd be gay, an' if all a boy wants is for blokes to get at him, then that'd be gay an' all, but if it were a special bloke, or for the bloke a special boy, still be a bit gay, I spose, but not in a gay way, like."

"That don't make no sense."

"Does. Well, sorta does in a way, like."

"What you mean?"

"Well, like when I wanks. If I does it thinking about sucking Toby Miles' cock I spose that's me being gay, but if I'm thinking of Sandra Mills tits I'm not being gay, am I? Still me though, ain't it?"

"Yeah. So?"

"What I mean is, it's just sex, ain't it?"

"Yeah. But you wouldn't want to do just sex with a bloke, would you?"

"Nah, be different."

"Why?"

"Cos I'd only do it with a bloke what liked me, not cos I just needed me cock to get some action."

"So you would do it with a guy what liked you?"

"Already said I might, ain't I?"

"Might, or would?"

"Okay, probably would."

"And that ain't being gay?"

"Oh, get real! You said if you had a bloke like that, you'd want his cock."

"So what's wrong with that? Ain't gonna be no difference between a bloke's cock and a boy's is there? `Cept the bloke's probably be bigger."

"So you admit you like cock, then?"

"Never said I don't."

"Not all cocks, though."

"Alistair McKay?"

"Fuck! Was that ever a downer!"

"Too right! Boned up every time I saw him in shorts, till I got a look at it when he was changing."

"And never tried to look again!"

"No way! Looked horrible without any foreskin!"

"Praps Toby been cut an' all."

"Fuck off! Ruin me wanking!"

"So your bloke's gotta like you and not be circumcised?"

"Stop taking the piss!"

"Not. I mean, be a real downer for you, wouldn't it, find a bloke what fancies you and likes you, then when you go to suck him you find he's got a chopped cock."

"Fuck off! Make it sound like I'm looking for a bloke."

"Well, aren't you?"

"No! Just saying if one came along what did like me enough, then I'd be up for stuff, that's all."

"So you'd be happy to suck a bloke's cock?"

"Give it a try."

"Swallow his cum?"

"Yeah, probably. Be only fair if he swallowed mine."

"And have him up your bum?"

"Have Miles up there any time he wanted!"

"Not talking about Miles, are we? Talking about some bloke bumming you."

"Yeah, okay. I know. I'm a sex crazed dirty kid."

"What's never done nothing except wank."

"And think about sucking a cock and have it spunking in me mouth, and wondering what it's like to have it shoved up me bum."

"Hurt."

"So? Must be more to it than that, mustn't there?"

"Must, I spose. No-one do it more than once if all it did was hurt."

"That's what I mean!"

"So, let's get this clear. You wouldn't do it for cash."

"Unless I were desperate."

"Which you're not, so you'd only do it with some bloke what liked you lots."

"Or Toby Miles."

"Who you're only ever going to get at in your wank dreams."

"Sad, but true."

"But if there was some bloke what liked you loads an' you liked him, you'd let him fuck you?"

"Not straight away, but, yeah, spose I would."

"And that's not gay?"

"Praps it is. But so what?"

"So what about this bloke what's still perving you?"

"What about him?"

"Reckon he must fancy you at least a bit, cos he ain't taken his eyes off you all the time you been sitting here."

Did he fancy the boy, Julian wondered? Fancy him more than simply because he was a slim, decent looking boy? Or was it just that the boy had let him into his mind, shared his boy-dirty thoughts? Were they even his real thoughts? He was putting on a performance, after all, doing an audition. It could all be just an act, nothing more.

What an act though! Utterly and completely convincing. Could a boy his age, and he'd said he was nowhere near being legal yet so he was probably a young fifteen at the most, be that convincing if it was all made up?

It didn't matter. From the audition point of view, made up or real, boy number forty-seven had got himself a scholarship, no question about that.

What if it was all true, though? What if the boy was possible boyfriend material? Would Julian be interested? Too right he would!

"Dunno," the boy on the box said, "Up to him, really, ain't it?"

"Not going up to him and asking if he's after your cock?"

"Nah. Not offering it to him. He wants it, he's got to want the boy with it."

"So he's got to make a move?"

"Yeah. The sort of move that says he ain't just after a bit of boy cock."

"How's he gonna do that?"

"I dunno. Find out when and if he does, I spose."

The boy looked at his wrist watch, slid off the box and walked off into the darkness, his audition concluded.

 

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