At the beginning of 1941 my family all left Duncaster House. I returned to our apartment in Cadogan Lane. I also started back at work again at The Times, which had in any case continued to give me a basic salary for all those months.
Apart from some lonely walks on the streets near my home, I was normally alone, finding no interest in anything now that Ben was no longer with me. Only my work prevented me from lapsing into a state of complete apathy.
>From time to time I would go and visit Lady Martha. We would talk about Ben.
On one occasion, she said to me: "Forgive me, Andrew, but... I get the impression you are too lonely."
"I feel fine, thank you."
"No, my boy. You're approaching your twenty-sixth birthday, you are still so young. You cannot shut yourself off from life like this. Forgive me for presuming to interfere in your private life, but you know how fond I am of you. You mustn't stay so tied to the memory of our dear Benjamin. He would be the first not to want that. You must grasp your life again with both hands, you should live, enjoy yourself. Leave us old people to live off our memories..."
"No, Lady Martha, you are really kind, but I cannot..."
"You feel like that now. But you are bound to feel differently one of these days. I chose to speak about this now, because I know you well enough to realise that, when it does happen, you may feel remorse. Well, you mustn't. Life is... life! Remember that. So, try to pull yourself out of this state of yours. I ask you that in the name of our Benjamin: he wanted your happiness, not your destruction!"
She never touched on the subject again; indeed, knowing her reserve, I was astounded she had even said this much. It was just further proof of how fond she was of me.
But I couldn't yet pull myself out of my state of silent sorrow.
May 12th 1941 there was the umpteenth Luftwaffe attack. They didn't succeed in dropping many bombs on London, the damage was less than other times. But my parent's home was hit and they were both killed.
This second tragedy was terrible. The whole of Ben's family came to their funerals and a great number of neighbours, friends and colleagues who all extended their sympathy to us.
But I suffered a nervous breakdown and had to be hospitalized; I was in care for about a month. Enza, my sister-in-law and Ben's sisters took turns at my bedside.
I was out by mid-June. I started work again at The Times. I began going to the Club again too: riding gave me a sense of release. Friends invited me, trying to distract me.
It was a whole year after Ben's death before I went back to the Sunshine Hut for the first time. The house was full of dust; the uncultivated garden gave me a feeling of deep sadness. I set myself to work for several hours, until I was really tired. But by July 13th, my birthday, both house and garden were in order once again.
In August I had to go back to London, to The Times. They asked me if I felt up to going to the USA to write a series of articles about the American Army.
I accepted and went to the States.
My articles were extremely well received, so my stay, intended to be only about a fortnight, was prolonged for several months. They asked me to send several more articles, touring the whole USA to see how the civil population was reacting to the war.
When I had first reached New York, I had presented my credentials to the New York Times, which gave me all the support I needed. In September I was in Washington where I interviewed several figures at both the White House and the Pentagon.
One evening, at a small Chinese restaurant, I had a curious encounter. I was eating when I noticed a boy of about nineteen, alone at a table near mine. He was eating extremely slowly, chewing each morsel carefully. I couldn't guess from his appearance what his origins were. Certainly not Anglo-Saxon. He might be a Latino, or perhaps Greek. From the way he was savouring his food, I would have said he hadn't eaten for a while; yet he seemed neither poor nor ill fed. He was dressed with some elegance, but it seemed as if he might have been wearing the same clothes for quite a while.
When he asked for the bill, he spoke with a perfect American accent. I too paid and went out. The boy walked for several blocks then sat on a bench.
He rummaged in his pockets then, when I passed near him, spoke to me, asking: "Do you have a cigarette?"
"Sorry, I don't smoke. But I can give you some money if you like..." I answered, curious about him.
"No thank you, I'm no beggar. Anyway, where can I find cigarettes this late? You're not American."
"No, English."
"You don't look English."
"You don't look Anglo-Saxon either."
"No, that's true. Where are you from?"
"Italy, but of Greek descent... two hundred years ago." He laughed. So I asked him: "And you?"
"It's complicated: one grandfather Italian, and the other Spanish, one grandmother Turkish, the other French."
"A good mix. And a fine result."
He looked at me, hesitating, then, with a directness that astounded me, asked: "Am I your type?"
I hadn't followed him with an approach in mind, nor, up to that moment, had I looked upon him as a possible conquest: I was just curious about the boy. But now, confronted with the explicit question, something stirred in me, woke up.
So I answered: "Yes. And me?"
"Yes. I saw the way you were looking at me in the restaurant."
"To tell you the truth, I was looking at you simply because I was wondering what nationality you were and what sort of person you might be..."
"Ha... that's not exactly a compliment..."
"But it is the truth. At that moment I wasn't thinking of anything else."
"And now, are you thinking of... anything else?"
"Why not? You?"
"Sit down. I want to get to know you better before..."
"Before... what?"
"Before going to bed with you, no?"
Laughing softly, I sat down beside him. He asked me: "What're you laughing at?"
"You have a curious frankness and self-assurance."
"What's the point of beating about the bush?"
Then he started asking me lots of questions. In my turn, I tried to understand who he was, what he did. It wasn't difficult, because he always answered with extreme openness.
His name was Nick, he had a Spanish passport, and three days earlier he had lost his job because he refused to have sex with his boss.
"He thought that just because he found out I like men, I would go to bed with anybody who propositioned me! Poor fool! So I told him to go to Hell and he sacked me."
"And now, what are you doing for a living?"
"Certainly not selling my body. I'll have a go at anything I can find, while I'm looking for a real job."
"And where do you sleep?"
"If I can't find a guy I like and who wants to put me up for the night, here, on this bench."
We talked a while longer, then he asked me: "So, would you like to put me up for tonight?"
"I can pay for a hotel room for you..."
"Why, don't you feel like having sex with me?"
"Yes, but I can't take you to my room. My hotel doesn't allow strangers in rooms."
"I see. But if I had a room in the same hotel, what guests do in their own rooms doesn't concern them?"
"Right."
"OK, then."
I took him with me and gave him some money before we entered: "It'll be better if you ask for the room yourself."
"OK. What number is your room?"
"357."
"If you don't mind, I'll take the opportunity of having a shower first, before I come along. Don't worry, I won't rip you off. I really dig you."
"All right." I answered smiling and went in.
While he stopped at the reception to check in, I went up to my room. After about half an hour I heard a knock. It was him.
He entered and looked around, then said: "It's a good hotel. My room's fine too. Shall we get undressed?"
"Yes." I answered, still amazed at his complete lack of hesitation or ceremony.
I looked at him while he was undressing: his body was pleasant enough, like his face, even if you couldn't really say he was handsome. I liked his smooth and hairless body. And bit by bit I realised too that I liked the boy for his personality: so direct, frank, and to the point, yet not in the least vulgar. He wasn't passionate in the way Michel was, nor refined like Ben, yet he was completely uninhibited and likeable.
When at last we were both sated, he asked me: "Would you prefer me to go back to my own room, or would you like me to stay here with you?"
"What would you prefer?"
"If I won't be boring you, I'd like to stay..."
"So, stay then, I'd like that."
We chatted a little more, about me, about him, until Nick's voice started to falter and he slowly drifted off to sleep.
When I woke up, it was light: seven o' clock in the morning. I looked at Nick: he was sleeping serenely. I slipped the sheet off him. His naked body was appealing, abandoned so softly beside me. He was tender and sensual. I grew excited looking at him, but I didn't want to wake him. So I went on enjoying his nakedness without touching him, remaining aroused. After some minutes he opened his eyes.
He looked at me and broke into a gentle smile: "Good morning, Andrea."
"Good morning, Nick. Did you have a good sleep?"
"Yes..." He looked at my body and noticed my arousal: "What are you doing there still? Why didn't you make love to me if you wanted to?"
"I didn't want to disturb you..."
"Being made love to by a guy that appeals to me never disturbs me." he answered leaning provocatively against me.
So we started making love again. We were beginning to know each other's bodies, so it was even more pleasurable than the first time.
The boy appealed more and more to me. He had a clear spirit, and was very likeable.
So, when we got up, I said to him: "Listen, Nick. I have to stay in the States for a few weeks. If you feel like it, we can stick together. While I'm at work, during the day, you can look for a job. And until you find one, I'll take care of your... expenses."
"Really?"
"Of course."
"You dig me that much?"
"Yes."
"OK. I feel great with you too."
"Then can we meet this evening at the same restaurant?"
"Yes."
"Here. You can't go around without money."
"I don't want money, I told you. And you're paying for the room already..."
"But I'm not... paying you, believe me. Take it, please."
"OK..."
We dressed. He went back to his room and I went out.
That day I had a brief meeting with Secretary of State Early, then with several Senators and Congressmen. The day flew by very fast, when I remembered Nick.
I went to the Chinese restaurant. He was outside, smoking a cigarette.
"Hi, Nick. Sorry I'm late..."
"Sorry for what? You were working."
"How was your day?"
"Nothing. I helped unload a truck, that's all."
"Let's go and eat."
After dinner I asked him if he felt like going for a stroll. We chatted. I liked him more and more. He told me he'd been in the USA with his father since he was eight. Getting tired of his father with his many girlfriends, when he came of age he'd left home. He'd been gone eight months, and didn't want to go back at any price. He told me that he'd had his first sexual experience five years earlier, with the landlord's son. But he'd never had a proper lover. He asked me a lot of questions about my experiences, and especially about my relationships with Michel and Ben.
We went into a bar for a beer. Suddenly he said: "Let's go make love!"
"With pleasure!" I answered, so we went back to the hotel.
That evening he was liberated, and very skilled. I told him so and he laughed: "Of course! I've had more men in five years than..." He didn't finish.
"How come you've never had a steady relationship?"
"I'm too young for things like that. If I like someone, I'll see him again, but not to the exclusion of others. I'm not yet ready for love."
"I was, at fourteen."
"But you are an exceptional guy."
"Shut up, don't pull my leg, Nick!"
"No, I really think so."
For a while he was serious, as if thinking. Then he seemed to shake himself, smiled and asked, with his usual mischievous look: "Ever been in a threesome?"
"Yes, a few times."
"You like it?"
"Not bad..."
"Would you like to do it?"
"Now?"
"No, tomorrow night."
"And... who's the third?"
"The hotel bell-hop. Do you like him?"
"He's a nice boy. But will he agree?"
"Sure! Didn't you notice how he was looking at us tonight in the elevator?"
"No... but how can you be so sure? I can hardly ever tell if someone is OK or not..."
"Let me take care of it..." he said, and started to kiss me again.
We went to sleep about two o' clock.
The following morning I tried to give him some more money but again he refused: "I still have the money you gave me yesterday. I don't need it. Shall we meet for supper as usual?"
"Yes, OK."
"Have a good day at work, Andrea."
"Thank you, and good luck."
That day I obtained permission to interview some soldiers who were ready to go and fight in Europe. Their morale was high, their equipment excellent. Several of these boys were from families originating from the warring countries, so they felt a degree of personal involvement in the war.
In the afternoon I saw some good wool trousers in a shop and bought them for Nick. I did some other interviews, then went to meet him. He arrived a little after me.
"Hi!"
"Hello. Had a good day?"
"Same as usual. But I did scrape together a few dollars."
"How about we go to another restaurant tonight?"
"Whatever you like."
We went to a Greek restaurant and Nick enjoyed trying a little of each speciality. On the way back to the hotel, he said: "Go in ahead of me. I'll come in after you, so I can talk with the bell-hop."
I had forgotten, but agreed. A few minutes later, he turned up: "No go for tonight, but I was right. He gets off duty at six in the morning. Ii it OK with you if he comes up then?"
"Why not..?"
"Hang on then, I'll go tell him."
He was back in a moment: "Settled! And now, over to us!"
I gave him the parcel. "This is for you."
"For me? What is it?"
"Open it..."
He tore open the paper and gazed at the contents for quite a long time, fingering them. Then he gave me a sweet look and murmured: "Thank you. But you shouldn't have..."
"Nonsense. I'm happy to buy you them. Try them on..."
They fitted him, I had guessed his size right.
"Good. Tomorrow, give your old trousers to the hotel cleaning service."
"OK, boss."
I was already in bed. He undressed and joined me, and we made love.
At six the bellhop knocked at the door. I didn't hear him, and went on sleeping. Nick let him in him, got him to undress and they climbed back into bed together. I woke up to the feeling of being touched, caressed. I saw the two naked boys leaning either side of me.
"Andrea, this is Ken."
"How d'you do, Ken. Welcome..."
The boy was blond, had a completely smooth and hairless body, well proportioned and manly, with a slight tan. He had a square jaw and pale eyes. He must have been about twenty.
All three of us had fun and made love in every possible way and every possible position. Nick was the director. Ken had a kind and affectionate nature. He liked to be caressed and fondled a little. It was interesting to see how the difference in the personalities of the two boys was reflected in the way they made love. Ken was shyer, reserved, and sweet. Nick was free and easy, uninhibited, and sensual.
It was already eight thirty when we got up.
Ken, while dressing, said: "Thank you. It was really good..."
"Did you enjoy it too?" Nick asked me.
"Yes. You were both fantastic!"
"So Ken can come again, tomorrow morning?"
"Sure, if he wants to..."
I remained in Washington for five more days. Nick stayed with me, and Ken came every morning. Then I had to leave for Los Angeles.
So I said to Nick: "Listen, I have to leave. So either we have to say goodbye, or you come with me."
"I'd really like to come with you. Looking for a job here or in Los Angeles is all the same to me. But it's the fare..."
"I'll pay for you."
"You're spending too much money on me. I don't like that."
"Don't worry about that. I'd be very happy if you'd come."
"If it's really what you want... I feel great with you. I'll come."
So I booked two seats on the plane. It was Nick's first flight, and he enjoyed it a great deal. He spent almost the whole time with his nose glued to the window.
Upon arriving in Los Angeles, I booked a twin-bedded room. The second day, when I met him after work, he was with a group of boys. He had borrowed a guitar from one of them and was singing Spanish songs.
When he stopped, I said to him: "You have a most beautiful voice, and you sing lovely songs."
For the first time, he seemed embarrassed by my compliment. The following day I bought him a guitar. He was put out, but happy: "Why are you giving me all these presents?"
"Wouldn't you give them to me if you were able?" I asked.
"Yes, perhaps. I don't really know. But if you are trying to tie me to you with presents..."
"Nope. I have no intention of... buying you."
" I'm not for sale anyway."
"I know. Precisely." I concluded.
But he was pleased with his new guitar and played it immediately. He was really talented.
Suddenly I asked him: "Have you never thought about looking for work as a singer in a night club?"
"No; never."
"Well, do think about it. You sing very well, you have a really good voice. It's great listening to you..."
So he visited several clubs as I had suggested. At first he had no luck.
But six days later he was waiting for me, beaming: "Andrea, I have the contract in my pocket!"
"What contract?"
"Thanks to you, I'm going to be singing in a nightclub."
"Great, I am glad. When do you start?"
"This very evening. From 11 pm. to 5 am. They're giving me a small-furnished room too. It's a hole, but it's OK for a start. The pay's reasonable, and there's the opportunity for tips too."
"Are you pleased?"
"Yes, very. But it'll mean changing when we can see each other..."
"But you don't have to go on..."
"Are you tired of me?" he asked with a mischievous smile.
"No, not at all."
"So, then! I still want to be with you, at least for as long as you remain here. You make me feel good and I like the way you make love. Will you come and hear me sing?"
"Willingly."
I remained another fortnight in Los Angeles. We would make love early in the evening, before dining, then I would go with him to the nightclub. He really was a good singer, he was applauded warmly and received good tips.
When I had to leave for San Francisco, he promised he would come and say goodbye at the station. He arrived carrying a small case.
"Hi, Andrea. This is for you... I hope it'll be useful."
It was a Remington portable typewriter, a fine, compact model, and very light.
"Oh, Nick, it must have cost a fortune! Whatever made you...?"
"It cost ten weeks pay, but I can pay it by instalments. You have done so much for me, I had to give you a present to express my gratitude to you. So now you will think of me each time you use it, and I'll be thinking of you when I'm playing my guitar..."
"This seems almost like a declaration of love!" I said, smiling.
He blushed and said: "Fuck you!" then he embraced me and said "Thank you Andrea, thank you for everything. We'll almost certainly never meet again. That's why I've tried not to... fall in love with you. And it hasn't been that easy. Read the newspapers, who knows, one day you may read about a great singer... If you don't mind, I'd like to use your last name as my stage name: Nick Nike. It sounds better than Nick Fernandez..."
"Just as you wish. Thank you for this beautiful present, but above all for your wonderful friendship. You've made my time really enjoyable. Good luck, Nick Nike!"
"Good luck, Andrea."
As he said, we never did meet again. But several years later I did read his name, not in a newspaper but on a record sleeve. I bought it immediately: it really was him, his voice was unmistakable.
I transferred to San Francisco. Here I received orders from The Times to cross the whole of the States by car, describing the war effort in different parts of the country, and the civil population's reactions to the war.
So I was still in the USA to experience the tide of emotion that swept the country at the unexpected Japanese attack at Pearl Harbour.
After Nick, for more than a month, I had no other adventures, both because I was so often on the move, and also because I wasn't looking for that. But the relationship with Nick had helped me to definitely come out of the depression I was plunged into after the deaths first of Ben and then my parents. I felt alive again and full of the will to live. I had started looking at men again in a sexual way and even, at times, with desire.
Though the days were still fine, it was beginning to get cold. I had to buy new clothes, as the ones I had brought with me from England were only autumn ones; I'd initially only been expecting to stay in the States for a couple of weeks. In 'Frisco I had rented a car, in which I traversed the whole of the States on a zigzag route. The Times wired me money for expenses to banks in the main cities. Every other day I transmitted my articles to The Times.
My first stop was in Portland, Oregon. Then I went to the interior and stopped in Aberdeen, Idaho. I had just left there and was heading towards Rock Springs, Wyoming, when I spotted a boy hitch-hiking by the roadside. I stopped to pick him up. He was a guy around twenty, the classic All American Boy; a travel bag slung across his shoulders, the simple, clean face of a good son.
"Where are you headed?" I asked him.
He leaned in the window and, with a broad smile, answered:
"Anywhere."
"Anywhere? What do you mean?"
"I've got two months holiday and I want to go round the States, so - anywhere is good for me."
"OK, then, get in. I'm just going... anywhere!"
He laughed, threw his bag on the back seat and sat beside me, introducing himself immediately: "The name's James. James Kirkpatrick."
"I'm Andrea Nike," I said putting the car into gear and pulling away.
After a while the boy said:
"I'm gonna take off my windcheater, it's warm in here."
"Go ahead."
He threw that on the back seat too, and settled down in his seat, relaxing. He was wearing a loose, soft wool sweater as well. He had a long body, lean but muscular, enveloped in tight trousers that highlighted a nice basket between his legs. Noticing the generous bulge between his thighs was just a small step away from wanting to put my hand there, but I restrained myself.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty."
So, I wasn't wrong.
"But, why aren't you in the army, then?"
"Unfit for service."
Unfit? Strange! The boy seemed physically sound, in fact in perfect shape, I thought; but I said nothing.
"And how come you're on holiday in Winter?"
"I'm a lifeguard. The resort is closed now, so..."
The boy now had his legs wide apart, his hips thrust forward on the seat, his back leaning on the back of the seat. In that position, the swelling under his fly was even more visible. Bad timing - I was really aroused. But the boy seemed so 'straight', as we'd say nowadays. I must admit, if anything this very fact was exciting me even more. He asked me what I did for a living and I told him.
"Interesting." was his laconic reaction.
After about three hours of driving, I stopped the car at a gas station with diner and bar.
"I need to fill up and stretch my legs a while. Can I get you something at the bar?"
"Thanks."
He walked with the loose, loafing gait typical of boys that age, especially when tall, over six foot as he was. His hair was a rich blond and his eyes a beautiful greenish-gold colour. When he smiled he revealed a perfect arc of shining white teeth.
My desire to get my hands on him was growing dangerously strong.
James ate a couple of burgers and a big glass of milk. It was a pleasure to watch him eating with such appetite.
"I'd love to know how you can eat so heartily and yet remain so slim!" I said
"A very active metabolism, and physical activity." he answered.
"You're a sportsman?"
"You could put it that way..." came his cryptic reply.
He went to the toilet and I felt an impulse to follow him, but I refrained. My excitement didn't seem to subside, quite the reverse...
The boy insisted on paying the bill.
We resumed our journey.
Again, James sat in that same, perhaps unconsciously, provocative position. I was battling within myself. Then I thought: well, try it! The worst that can happen is that he'll tell you to go to hell and get out of the car... what have you got to lose?
So, after one last hesitation, lifting my hand from the gear lever, I laid it on the youth's thigh and said:
"You know that you really are a very handsome boy?"
He didn't answer, didn't move, but smiled. Then I shifted my hand to his nice basket, fingered it delicately and said:
"I would love to undress you, naked..."
He laid his hand on mine, pressing it a little harder against his swelling, which immediately responded and started to throb, and said: "That can be arranged..."
I couldn't believe my luck. So I continued: "We could look for a room together in Rock Springs..."
"Perfect. But for now keep your eyes on the road, or else we'll have a room together at the hospital." he answered smiling again.
We entered Wyoming and reached Rock Springs. I looked for a motel right away and rented a room. I was so excited that as soon as we were inside I started to undress immediately. When I looked at James, he was just wearing a short, tight singlet, boxers and black socks held up by white elastic garters. He had muscular arms and solid thighs. I was completely naked.
He pulled off his socks and looked at me with a smile: "You have a nice body."
"You too..." I said, drawing nearer and starting to pull off his singlet.
His broad chest, his well developed pectorals, his flat and slightly concave stomach, the complete absence of any hair, made me quiver with excitement. I started to lower his white cotton boxers. A faint layer of hair started just under his navel, becoming thicker towards his member. His legs too were hairless. I was fascinated and aroused by the contrast between that completely glabrous body and the thick bush of hair in which his beautiful circumcised member nestled, already half stiff.
"God, you're gorgeous!" I exclaimed with emotion.
He let his hands flow in a slow caress over my sides and my shoulders and said: "I like you a lot too. You're just the type of man that turns me on. Look at him, how he's waking up without even touching him!"
We lay on the bed and started to make love. I slowly entered him and soon an expression of bliss spread over his face and he murmured how much he was enjoying having sex with me. Soon my rhythm became breathless and overwhelming and finally we reached the peak of orgasm.
Then, lying side by side, we caressed each other, gradually relaxing.
"You were fantastic, you know?" he said with a sated expression, continuing to lightly caress my chest and sides. Then he asked me:
"Ever done it in water?"
"No..." I answered.
"It's really great. Let's rest a bit now and recover, and then we can go take a bath and do it all over again. Do you like that idea?"
I smiled happily and answered: "Why not? You're a very good lover."
"Sure, I do OK. As a lifeguard there's no lack of good opportunities. That's why I like the job so much."
I remembered he'd said he was declared unfit for military service, so I asked him why.
"Homosexuals are always discharged." he answered.
"But you don't seem like one."
"Nor you, for that matter. I went with you because I liked you, but I thought there was nothing doing, you were so serious... I wasn't certain right up until you put your hand... As for me, when I was first in the barracks, I tried it on with a boy I liked too much... he not only refused, but reported me to our officers. I admitted it was true and so... here I am."
"But you didn't try anything on with me..."
"From the way you are dressed, I could never have imagined you had such a desirable body. And then I didn't fancy being thrown out of your car, so thought I'd just wait and see..."
"Has that happened to you?"
"Yes! Twice in the last week."
"You're not very lucky: first your army chap, then the two drivers...
"Yeah! The problem is that I like very manly guys, and so the risk is greater that they won't be that way inclined. But now I'm here with you, so I'm not that unlucky, after all." he said with a mischievous smile.
We chatted a little more, then he suggested:
"Let's go take a bath..."
"And have the second... instalment!" I answered.
We went into the bathroom: "Ah! Pity there's only a shower. It would be even better if there was a tub, but we can make do. Go on, turn the water full on!"
We climbed under the shower. The sensation of the water, pelting all over our bodies, was delicious, and the pleasure increased when he started to drum all over my body with his fingertips. I copied, and he nodded his enjoyment.
We were soon both aroused and ready to start our love-making all over again. Water streamed sensually over our bodies, caressing them like a thousand lovers' hands. We savoured every moment of that combined shower and love-making, enjoying to the full every quiver, every pulsation, every contact.
The boy really was an artist and was giving me sensations of an intensity I never had felt before. I tried my best to give him back the same pleasure, but didn't feel I was in his league. I felt the tension of orgasm building in me like an extraordinary force ready to burst, finally freeing itself in such an explosion of marvellous sensations that I couldn't help shouting all my pleasure while I shot inside him. The boy came too, and his face seemed to light up with ecstasy, his body vibrating like a bow string.
When we dried each other and lay on the bed, we were exhausted, but happy and satisfied. We embraced and slipped into the sweetest of sleeps.