Johann and Daniel

by Charles Lacey

Chapter 10

Johann.

Our kind Englishman, Christopher Woodward, as we now discovered his real name to be, collected us from the Federleins' house and took us to near the border with Liechtenstein. Once there he told us he would be away for an hour or two, but to remain near the car and hide if anyone showed up. Just as dusk was falling he reappeared, seeming to be rather flustered, and we drove across the border.

Du lieber Gott! That journey was the most nightmarish I have ever made. Christopher drove like a maniac, and it was a big car with a powerful engine. Some of the roads we went along were narrow and winding, and he mostly drove without lights. But he was a very competent driver and he managed it, and once we were at St Gallen we were able to get a message through. Two days later, we were told to be at the airfield at Lucerne. We travelled there by train, and an aircraft carrying Swiss markings picked us up. The second pilot was a man who knew Christopher, and who had flown with him in the British Air Force. Five hours later we landed at a place called Manston, in England, where another car picked us up.

We were driven in the car to a big house in the country; it was a journey of several hours. Christopher sat in the front and chatted to the driver, but Daniel and I sat in the back, mostly dozing as we were desperately-tired. When we arrived at the house, we were told to stay put, and our shoes were taken in case we tried to run away, though there was very little left of Daniel's and mine were not much better. But we were given food and drink, taken to a room on the top floor, and shown where there was a bathroom. The bedroom was nice, all corners, with two sloping ceilings at an odd angle as it was in a corner of the house. There was just one big bed; the woman who showed us to the room apologised for that, but said that in wartime it was not easy to get furniture and they had to make the best of what they could find. But there was a cupboard with a mirror in the door, and another little cupboard next to the bed, and a big old-fashioned chest of drawers, and a little table with two chairs. The floor was just polished wood, but there was a colourful rug next to the bed, made from all kinds of strips of cloth.

It was a curious feeling, being in a foreign country, with only a very basic knowledge of its language and none of its customs. And yet Christopher and the other people we met had all been reassuring. At least we were not in danger of being taken out and shot against the nearest blank wall. The food was plain, mostly vegetables, but there was plenty of it, and it was hot and filling.

We looked at each other, and at ourselves in the bathroom mirror. We were as tattered and grimy a pair of ragamuffins as ever you saw. We took off our clothes – such as they were; we had been wearing them ever since we had arrived at the Federleins' house! – and ran some hot water into the bath.

Daniel got in first, and I looked curiously at him when he had taken off his clothes. I had never seen a circumcised penis before, and wanted to touch it. My own shaft began to stiffen, and I turned away from him so that he should not see. But he suddenly said, "Johann; turn this way, please... I want to ask you something."

I turned towards him, naked as I was, and looked at him.

He hesitated, and then said, "You told me you had been found in bed with another boy... I... that is to say, what was his name?"

"Albert," I replied. "Albert Gluck."

"I wish..." began Daniel again, and suddenly he blushed deep red. "I wish I had been that boy."

"You mean..." I said, "that you are... like me? That you... like... other boys? Not girls?"

"Yes," replied Daniel, simply, blushing even more. I looked at his face and it was as if I saw it for the first time, now that it had been washed. It was a sweet face, gentle and intelligent and sensitive. I wanted to put my arms round him and kiss him but was afraid of what he might think.

Suddenly, I found that I did not feel tired any more. I went over to where he was sitting in the bath, picked up the soap and a flannel and began to wash his shoulders and neck. There was silence between us for a few minutes while I washed first his back and then his chest.

"Daniel," I said, very quietly, "I wish so, too." And I leaned over him, soaping his arms and neck. Suddenly, he moved forward and stood up, facing me, and stepped out of the bath. Now that he was standing free of the soapy water, I could see his penis standing proudly from his body. My own shaft responded by becoming just as stiff.

Our faces moved ever closer together, until I could feel his breath on my chin. His arms came up and clasped my shoulders, one hand stroking my head, all dirty as it still was, the other on my back, pulling me towards him.

I do not know how many times we have kissed since that day. It must be many thousands. But I remember that first kiss as if it had been yesterday. I had no idea that a boy's lips could be so soft and yet so firm, the tongue so tender and moist, delicately exploring. I put my arms around him, stroking his back, then one hand sliding down to his bottom. I'd seen that as he undressed and got into the bath. It was tiny, firm and somehow very appealing, as if it summed up not only his body but also his personality. But now I was stroking it, letting a finger enter the secret crevice down the middle.

"Get into the bath and sit down," Daniel said to me very quietly. He took a jug of water and poured it over my head, then washed first my hair, then my shoulders and back. He knelt by the side of the bath and his soap-slippery hands moved down and down. Finally he grasped my shaft and I could no longer restrain myself. My white seed spurted forth onto my belly and into Daniel's hand, dripped down into the water and was gone. Daniel's other hand stroked my back and chest. I lay back in the water, sated and becoming sleepy.

But as Daniel stood to pass a towel to me, his penis, which was still stiff and straining, brushed my face. I could not help it: my mouth opened as it were of its own accord, and slid over the head and half way down the shaft. Like me, Daniel could no longer hold himself back and his seed was ejected into my mouth. The taste was strange to me, but not unpleasant, and I held it in my mouth for a moment, unsure whether to swallow it or to spit it out. But I thought if I spat it out, Daniel might think that he had disgusted me. He hadn't, of course, for I couldn't think of anything about him as other than beautiful, so I swallowed it and then looked up at him, smiled and put out a hand to stroke his legs, which were the nearest part of him.

Daniel finished washing me, and then I got out of the bath and we dried each other. We'd been lent a pair of pyjamas each. They were adult size, much too large for us, and we laughed as we looked at ourselves in those baggy clothes. But then I took Daniel's hand and led him back to our bedroom. We got into the bed and half-sat, half lay side by side, holding hands, and being quiet together, enjoying our closeness and the absence of the fear which had consumed our every moment since leaving Linz.

"Daniel," I asked, very quietly, "Do you still wish you were Albert?"

"No," he replied, very seriously, "There is no-one in the world I would want to be now, except Daniel." And he leaned close to me, nuzzling my cheek with his nose, and then turning his head for another kiss. "Put out the light, Johann. Good night, my love."

"Good night," I responded, as I put out the bedside light. I put an arm around his neck and we lay down, his head resting on my shoulder. His hair felt soft and fine, and smelt fragrantly of the shampoo we had used.

We were desperately tired, of course. We had walked a great many miles, experienced utter terror, spent time in hiding, been rescued and brought here by car, aeroplane and car again. But we had found each other and gone through all those experiences together. Now we were in a foreign country, speaking the language only haltingly, and we ought to have felt frightened. But we didn't. We somehow sensed that the people whose house we were in were friendly and wished us only well. We had been given food that was plain, but better by far than the bitter acorn coffee and black bread of the German prison. We had been allowed to clean ourselves in a bath of warm water with soap and big cosy towels. And, best of all, we were side by side in a comfortable bed, in a house in England, whose people were fighting against perhaps the worst tyranny the world had ever known, and we were to have the chance to give a tiny bit of help to them. Daniel kissed my shoulder. I kissed his forehead. We slept.