Date: Tue, 28 Feb 2006 07:12:13 +0000 (GMT)
From: Mike Arram <mikearram@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Henry in High Politics - 17

The Michael Arram stories are now beginning to appear together at:
http://www.iomfats.org/storyshelf/hosted/arram

This story contains graphic depictions of sex between young males.  If the
reading or possessing of such material as this is illegal in your place of
residence please leave this site immediately and do not proceed further.
If you are under the legal age to read this, please do not do so.


XVII


  `So, amuse me,' said the ironic don opposite Henry.
  `Eh?' Henry replied.  He was intimidated.  He had spent a lousy night in
cruddy student accommodation at St Marks College.  There had been a sherry
reception for candidates in the master's lodge: ten nervous sixth formers
standing around making brittle conversation with the admissions tutor and
some of the fellows.  Henry had been unable to relate to his peers in this
case.  They had all been state school kids, and although Henry had been in
state secondary schools till he was fifteen, they were plainly intimidated
by his name badge with a famous public school on it.  And he could not
stand sherry, he had decided.
  Henry shifted in his seat.  He did not like the man opposite him.  `I'm
afraid I don't have a stand-up routine.'  This was not the way his sixth
form tutor had said it would go, with the interviewer supposedly creating a
relaxed chatty environment, in which Henry could showcase his enthusiasms.
  The don's face shifted from ironic to sardonic, `Tell me about your A
Level coursework,' he said.
  So Henry launched into a description of his personal project -- the
symbolism of death in East Shropshire graveyards.  He went into detail
about his methodology, which, his history teacher had told him, would be
what they wanted to know about.
  `Hmm.  Pleasantly parochial little study,' was the patronising response,
`Of course you've read Llewellyn and Aries?'
  `Er ... who?'
  `They would have given you the broader context that your empirical study
seems to need.  Ah well.  Can't expect too much.  Medwardine your school is
it?'
  Henry hated this guy, `Yes,' he confirmed.
  `Bloch still the head of history there?'
  `Mr Bloch is my teacher, yes.'
  `You seem to show all the features of his teaching.'
  Henry fumed ... how much more obnoxious could this man get?  This was
deliberate intimidation, and he was told that this was something that
should not happen in Cambridge interviews.  He shut down.  Saying something
might be worse than silence.  He gave short answers to questions between
long pauses.  He left without shaking a hand that was not in any case
offered.  The man had taken up none of the issues he had carefully
advertised in his personal statement.
  On Cambridge Station that afternoon he found himself waiting next to a
girl who had also been at St Marks.  He found her easy to chat to outside
the artificial interview environment.  She had been in front of the same
don that Henry had.  `What a love,' she smiled.  `He fell over backwards to
be pleasant and helpful.  I was surprised he didn't offer me a sweet.'
  Henry was gobsmacked, and then it hit him.  St Marks College had got into
trouble last year for failing to recruit any state school pupils for the
tenth consecutive year.  This year, Henry concluded, it was going to be
different.  His rejection letter arrived promptly at Trewern rectory a week
later.  No Cambridge for him.  Ed was devastated.  He had an offer from
Trinity.  All Henry's other options offered him places without interview.
  Henry and Ed debated the consequences at his home that weekend.  `I said
it might happen,' Henry reflected, `but you wouldn't talk about a Plan B in
case it did.  I suppose you got an offer from Cranwell too.'
  `Er ... yeah.  I did.'
  `Spit it out Ed.  I know what's going to happen.  You're going to take
Cambridge as firm offer and Cranwell as your insurance, aren't you?'
  `I've always wanted to go to one of the big three, Henry.'
  `And you must too, Ed ... no, I mean it.  I'd be stupid and selfish if I
tried to talk you out of it.  But it'll be different universities for us.'
  `You could take a year out Henry, and go for Cambridge again next year.'
  `That's advice for the desperate, and I at least would like to graduate
in the same year as you, Ed.  Ours is destined to be a long distance
university romance, I'm afraid.'  Henry's light words disguised a deep
unease at the developing situation.
  Ed smiled regretfully.  `Are you going down to the open day at Cranwell?'
  `Oh sure, Davey's coming, you coming too?'
  `Absolutely, and I've got us a lift.'
  `How did you manage that?'
  `Terry will be here on Friday to see Rudi about the contract, and he'll
drive us down to Cranwell.  His parents will put us all up and we can do
the open day thoroughly.'
  `Uhh ... Terry and Davey, good combination?'
  `Oh, he must be over it by now.'

David was by no means over his resentment towards Terry.  The sight of his
elfin smiling face brought back all the humiliation of his naive and
reckless Strelzen romance.  He went quiet, and would hardly say a word.
  But Terry was a grown up and he talked amusingly and happily most of the
way down the M6 and up the M4 to Cranwell.  They chatted about Rothenia,
about Justin -- as mad as ever, Terry said -- and about Cranwell, a place
that Terry still had a great affection for.  They heard his teen cruising
stories again, and still laughed in all the right places.  Of course he had
not gone to Cranwell University, so he could not tell them too much about
the place, to which he was an outsider.  But Andy and Matt certainly could,
and Terry urged Henry to take the next opportunity he had to button hole
them on the subject.
  Cranwell was an average little city: ring road, perimeter multiplex and
regional mall, a Victorian housing stock, and all the main High Street
outlets.  It gave off a sort of familiar friendliness that appealed to
Henry, to whom it was of course, a big city.  Terry drove straight to his
parents.
  `Now this my lads is the famous Finkle Road,' he announced as they turned
on to a long road lined with late Victorian terraced houses.
  `Wass famous about it?' asked a jaundiced David, who had been quietly
negative about Cranwell since they arrived there.
  `It's the student area.  This is where Matt and Andy, Will Vincent, and
Alex Johnson all lived in their day.  Puke Alley, the locals call it
... iss carpeted with sick in freshers' week.  Something to look forward
to, eh?'
  `What, vomiting your guts up and sliding round in it?'
  `S what students do, innit?'  Terry turned off Finkle Road and into a
modern cul de sac with large executive style houses.  He pulled up in the
drive of one.  A small and well-dressed lady came out as they were
unloading, and you could see where Terry had got his looks from.  Terry
picked up his mother and hugged her.
  `You're not looking after yourself,' she complained after looking her son
over, `you've lost weight, and the bags under your eyes!  You look years
older.'
  `Good to see you too mum,' Terry said with a roll of his eyes.  `These
are my young friends Edward, Henry and David.  They've come down for a
university open day from Medwardine.  Ed is Matt and Andy's fosterkid.'
  `It's nice to see you boys,' said Mrs O'Brien, giving them the once-over
and apparently approving of what she had seen.  She led them into a
well-furnished house, perhaps over furnished with glass ornaments and
Catholic devotional objects.  `Harry's at work, Terry's dad.  He's a Chief
Superintendent and it's his first week as commander of the city division,'
she announced with perfectly understandable pride.  Terry's dad had risen
through the force and had already had one interview as an Assistant Chief
Constable, as Terry had told them, with a good deal of pride himself.
Henry and Ed were sharing a bedroom as usual, but so too were David and
Terry, and David looked as if he didn't like it at all.
  Mrs O'Brien provided an ample dinner and Terry suggested the boys go and
check out Cranwell's nightlife.  He said he knew they would be OK. `I'd
suggest the King's Cross, which is the only gay pub in town, but Frank, the
manager, would never serve you and only give you a load of abuse.  Iss a
wonder the place survives.'
  So the boys explored the High Street and Swindon Road.  It was a busy
Friday night and the student population was out in force.  They got talking
to a table of first year boys in a city centre wine bar, and got the low
down on what was quite a vibrant nightlife.  They were warned about
Riversiders, the local chav population.  There was a bit of trouble in some
pubs as they loathed poncy students.  `Oh and don't go near the King's
Cross -- it's the gay pub.  The queers'll have your pants down as soon as
look at you.'  Henry rolled his eyes and gave a quirky look at David, who
grinned back.
  Once Terry was out of the way, David was his usual pleasant self.  As a
result it was a good evening out and they arrived back at Terry's parents'
house in a merry, but not drunken state.  They were introduced to Mr
O'Brien -- a more thickset and shorter version of his son -- and they had a
coffee before heading for bed.  Henry and Edward had the guest room, and
David and Terry were in Terry's boyhood room `... where I got me first
blowjob, handjob and fuck.  The spirit of Libido Past hangs heavy in that
place, so watch out Davey.'  David just gave him a neutral and sidelong
look.
  Ed and Henry spent a chaste night and were up early, but not as early as
David, who was nursing a coffee at the kitchen table, already dressed.
  Henry looked at him quizzically, `Did you have a row with Terry in the
night?'
  `Er ... not exactly.'
  `There's something odd about you.'
  Ed butted in, `Stop being nosy, Henry.  You're a typical country boy.'
  `I'm not being nosy I'm just concerned.  What happened?'
  `Terry took my cherry.'
  `You what!'
  `He fucked me: that huge thing of his played pool with my kidneys.'
  Henry's jaw sagged, `Did you want him to?'
  `Sort of,' admitted David.  `He was going to sleep in the sofa in his
room, and I just couldn't hold out under that sort of consideration and
niceness, could I?  So I pulled back the duvet, and he joined me.  We were
lying back to back, and he was being very nice, but ... have you seen him
without clothes?'
  `Obviously not.'
  `He's amazing.  Not much hair on his body, and very athletic with
beautiful long legs and such small feet.  All over tan too.  Even not
erect, his dick was causing a bulge in his pants, and his arse is so
muscular and tight.  So I sort of turned in the night and snuggled up to
him and I couldn't help myself fondling his monster.  It was already stiff.
It's not exaggeration, he must be nine inches, and a big set of balls.'
  `One of which is a prosthetic, so Justy said.'
  `Really?  You'd never know.  So he stirred and turned towards me.  I
could feel him smiling in the dark, and then he just cuddled me to him and
I sort of melted.  He's such a strong and powerful man and I just wanted
him.  So I began kissing and wanking him gently and he was groaning in my
ear, and then he turned me.  Now, I've never been penetrated before,
because Anton was such a bottom, and Terry seemed to know this when he
began fingering my hole.  So he flipped the switch of the bedside light and
smiled down on me ... he looked so gorgeous and I more or less begged him
to do me.  He got some old KY still in the bedside drawer and must have
spent half an hour opening me.  It was sensational, but when he started
putting himself in me ... God did it take ages.  It was like someone had
inflated a balloon in my bum, I was so full.  And then he began fucking me.
I was down on my tummy with a pillow under my cock.  He just took it slow,
and all he seemed to want to do was give me pleasure, and once the pain had
gone away, was it pleasurable.  I just wanted him to fuck me forever, and
he must have delayed coming for ages.  We did it bareback too ... d'you
think that was wise?'
  Henry was stunned but blurted out, `Oh, yes I'm sure Terry is clean and
he knows you are.'
  And after that he just held me ... and, I don't know whether I should
tell you this, but he cried as we began kissing afterwards.  So I kissed
and licked up his tears and he told me what a beautiful boy I was and how I
had brought him back to life after a long winter ... that was a lovely
thing to say, wasn't it?  And I wouldn't let him go but held him till the
sun came up.  I left him, asleep.  I'm in love, Henry.'
  Ed and Henry looked at each other, until Ed said, `Well, there's more
mileage in this one than Anton.  Young career guy, intelligent, fit,
probably already a multi-millionaire, and the most dangerous gay in the
western world.  God help the homophobe who picks on you, Davey.'
  Henry added, `And also, he must have real feelings for you, Davey.  He
wouldn't have done it otherwise.  He's such a controlled guy.  It's been
six months since Ramon died, I think maybe he's ready to rebuild his life.
But it's awesome that he's picked you.'
  `Awesome ... yeah that's the word.  But when we went to Rothenia I
thought there was something in the way we sat and talked there, and he
seemed to like me a lot.  It's just that Anton came along and y'know ...'
  Terry appeared at this point, wearing just boxers.  He went to the fridge
and got orange juice and as he turned he smiled at the boys.  David, who
was sitting a little timorously at the kitchen table looked up at him
through his long dark lashes.  Terry leaned in and gave him a kiss so
thorough that Henry was afraid that David would spontaneously combust.
Terry took his hand and grinned at the other two.  `I'm guessing that Davey
told you I got up in the night.'
  `And some,' said Ed.
  `Could you give us a few minutes, cos I think me and Davey have some
things to say to each other.'  They smiled and left.  And although Henry
kept on asking leading questions of David for the rest of the day, it was a
while before he found out what Terry and he had said to each other.  All he
would say as they left the O'Brien household with their campus maps, was
that he and Terry both wanted to carry on with it, but that they were going
to go slow and take it step by step.  Henry said he thought that was the
best idea.
  They went to register with the tour guides first and had a good scout
round the campus and library.  The history department was in an old town
house next to a city centre park.  Henry went to introduce himself to the
tutor and students manning a desk in the foyer there.
  A swarthy man with a naff moustache had a badge on saying `Professor
J. Faber : Admissions'.  Henry waited for him to deal with a girl and her
parents and then introduced himself.  Professor Faber checked his list.
`Oh yes,' he smiled, `Medwardine School.  I hope you had a good trip down
from Shropshire, Henry.  Are you Henry or Harry?'
  `Henry.  Me and some friends came down last night and stayed over,' Henry
replied.  `Could you tell me something about bursaries and scholarships.
My dad's a vicar and I'm going to be on a full maintenance grant, so every
little counts.'
  `I can imagine.  My eldest boy starts university next year and it's going
to be a nightmare.  We offer university scholarships for anyone who gets
ABB at A Level, but on top of that the department awards a number of
privately funded scholarships for deserving cases who score AAA.  They're
called the Marlowe Fellowships, although they were set up by an alumnus of
the department called Matthew White, they're worth £4000 a year and there's
a lot of competition for them.'
  `Matt White?'
  `Oh ... you know him?  He was once a student of mine.'
  `Know him?  He's my ... boyfriend's fosterfather, he's the reason I'm
looking at Cranwell, he speaks very highly of the place.'
  `Aah.  I see.  Well then.  You know all about him.  Is it that Justin boy
who's your boyfriend?'
  `Justy? ... God no.'
  `Thank goodness.  He is rather strange.'
  Henry laughed.  He liked Professor Faber.  `When did you meet Justin,
sir?'
  `Henry, this is university and I'm not a schoolteacher.  You call me Prof
Faber, or if you are feeling particularly bold, Jeremy.  But I met young
Justin at one of Matt's houseparties early last year.  It was for media
types and professional historians to mingle and be creative.  I think we
mostly got drunk.  Justin was hanging round the house and decided to have a
game involving running ballbearings down the bannisters with the aim of
smashing empty bottles he'd lined up in the hall.'
  `Yes,' laughed Henry, `that's Justy!  How did it end?'
  `The housekeeper attacked him with a broom handle, so far as I can
recall.  Let me check your details.  Ah.  You've decided on History and
Theology.  That's a pity.  The Marlowe Fellowships are for History, English
or English and History, but not that particular joint option.'
  Henry's heart fell and his face with it.  He had counted on that extra
support.  Oh bugger, it looked as though it would be working shifts in the
Cranwell McDonalds for him.  But Cranwell had made a good impression on
him.  He interrogated Professor Faber about the course and was gratified by
his accessibility and good humour.  The tutor in Theology was just as
pleasant, and they had a good deal to chat about since he and Henry's dad
had been to the same training college.  All in all, by the time he met up
again with David and Ed, Henry had decided that Cranwell would be his first
choice.  Ed was quite willing to make it his insurance, although he
typically refused to commit himself till he had seen the other institutions
on his list.  David was in an abstracted dream world, but he said that
Cranwell was very nice.  Frankly, Henry was convinced that if he had asked
David that day what he thought about the lowest circle of hell, he would
have said it was very nice.
  Terry was waiting when they got back and had the car ready.  He hugged
goodbye to his mother, and then got them into the car.  David, not
unnaturally, took the front seat this time.  They talked about Cranwell,
and David announced that he was definitely going to do Economics and
Business Studies there.  Henry was delighted, but suspicious.  He had a
feeling that David's veering away from his stated preferences for Durham
and St Andrews was part of a personal agenda of some sort involving Terry.
Terry was beaming from ear to ear and making whispered little jokes with
David, who was giggling like a girl a lot of the time.  Henry could not but
think that the problems of a seventeen year old schoolboy and a twenty four
year old executive carrying on a love affair were not going to be resolved
all that easily.  But he looked at the happiness in Terry's face, and
remembered the sadness that used to be there, and he prayed that Terry
would find a way to pull it off.  He had come to share Justin and Nathan's
adoration for the man.