The Apprentice

by and © N Fourbois

Chapter 9

Thursday was the first day of that week when things went according to plan. Well, almost. Eric went to work, completed his allotted tasks and arrived home by half past five. Kieran had got up at a reasonable time and spent the morning doing schoolwork. At lunchtime he wandered off to the shops to buy himself a snack and managed to pick up the latest edition of GY mag at the local newsagent's. He was lucky to spot it. Admittedly it was on the top shelf with the other gay magazines, but it was sealed in a thick opaque grey plastic wrapper with a window little bigger than an address label with GY in silver print to blend in with the cover, the date and the price. Still, it was easy to purchase that way and as the girl on the check out scanned the bar code on the back, he doubted that she had any idea about, or for that matter any professional interest in, the contents.

He went back to his own house to eat. He wanted to tidy his room since he was expecting a guest and he thought it might be a good idea to change the bed linen. He put the dirty stuff through the washing machine and dryer, left it in the utility room for ironing, checked the kitchen for any sundries they would need to buy later and sat down in front of his iMac to google smegma. Before leaving to walk back to Eric's flat he checked his wardrobe and came to some conclusions about what to wear over the weekend.

He let himself into the flat and started to make a cup of tea. Kieran had just put the teabag into the mug when he heard the front door open and Eric call out

"Hi, Kieran, I'm home."

"Hi, Eric, I'm in the kitchen making some tea. Do you want a cup?"

"I could murder one." Thinking on his feet Kieran put the mug and the teabag back and got out the teapot and the tea caddy. He thought it politic to demonstrate his newly acquired skills. "Oh! Proper tea," said Eric. "You're spoiling me." He went and got changed while the tea was brewing. Kieran carried the tray into the living room where they sat down and relaxed. "So what have you been up to?"

"I did some school work this morning, then went home to make sure things were all right and to see if there was anything we needed. I managed to find a copy GY mag, but I forgot it and left it in my bedroom. I'll pick it up later. I changed my bed ready for Orlando and put some stuff in the washing machine. That's about it. How did work go?"

"Oh, a normal humdrum day, thank goodness. There's just been too much excitement this week already. My weekend with Jules is going to be signally dull in comparison."

"So what have you got planned?"

"Sex, sex and after that probably a bit more sex. We might go to the pub or go out for a meal. It depends. It doesn't matter really. These are only little interludes to enable us to recharge our batteries. Jules is quite liberal. I've never known him say no when it comes to fun time, though we won't have access to my toy cupboard. I'd better pack a few things in a bag."

"What sort of things?"

"Things. Don't worry your pretty head about that. Learn to do the simple things first."

"Are handcuffs involved?" Eric looked at his nephew enigmatically and tapped the side of his nose with his forefinger.

"What made you ask that?"

"I saw a pair in your cupboard when you had it open."

"Oh."

"What's your relationship with Julian then if you're not boyfriends?"

"We go back a long way. I suppose the short answer is occasional sex buddies. We met during our first year at uni and became great friends. We both had the same interests, which it took us six months to find out. Although we enjoyed each other's company, we never wanted to commit. There were too many other fish to fry and so we sowed our wild oats when we had no one else to do. And all these years later we're still together... or apart, depending on your point of view it. We meet for the odd weekend, even go on holiday together, but I don't think we could live together. A fortnight is quite enough. It would be too demanding. Pour me another cup, please."

When they had finished, Kieran cleared the things into the kitchen. They walked down to the car park and set off through the rush hour to the supermarket. Eric parked, Kieran grabbed a trolley and they went into the building, ignored the man who tried to sell them less expensive energy, and started to fill up the trolley working from Eric's shopping list.

"What about the joint for Sunday?" asked Kieran as they passed the butchery department.

"It's all right. I have a little man just round the corner from the office. He's known all over town for his meat."

"And is he a butcher?"

"Ooh! Who's the sharpest knife in the drawer this afternoon, then?" Eric's screech of 'ooh!' made some of the customers look round in astonishment. Little children hid their faces in the folds of their mothers' skirts. Eric disappeared down the nearest aisle with Kieran in pursuit and when they stopped, they studied the goods on the shelf intensely until they noticed they were showing great interest in feminine hygiene products. They were brought back to reality by a snooty middle aged woman who said to Kieran

"Young man, I don't think you will require anything on that shelf." Quick as a flash Eric took up Kieran's cause and replied in a male voice of equal snootiness

"Madam, thank you for solicitude, but we are homosexuals and use tampons to stop leakage from our sphincters," and to underline the point he took a pack from the shelf, put it in the trolley and promptly walked off, with Kieran behind him in uncontrollable fits of laughter.

"How could you say that to her, Eric, and with such a straight face?"

"Out of the same impertinence she had in what she said to us in the first place."

"And is that true what you said about the sphincter?"

"It can happen. It does happen, but it's usually to old queens who misuse their bottoms beyond the call of duty. Ah, look where we are. The condom shelf. Take your pick." Remembering his lessons, Kieran picked out a dozen each of Avanti and extra strong. Sainsbury's apparently didn't stock flavoured condoms. "We'd better put this pack of tampons back before we arrive at the check out with it."

Just at the moment they heard a cry of

"Cooey! Eric, dahling." It came from the other end of the aisle. Eric looked at the ceiling and rolled his eyes.

"Just what we needed. Saucy Sue." The best way to describe her would be as the sister of Marina in Last of the Summer Wine, but for the benefit of readers who have not seen that television series she had blonde hair bouffon style, wore warpaint that must have applied with a trowel, a crew neck top which showed her bosom and sported a necklace of beads, a sleeveless cardigan, open, a skirt which made no attempt to approach her knees, stockings and impossibly high heeled shoes. "Susan, how marvellous to see you," Eric lied through his teeth. "Where have you been all these weeks?"

"Mwah, mwah. Here, there and everywhere, but mainly everywhere. Now, who is this gorgeous epitome of masculinity? Not another boyfriend? You must introduce me to him."

"He's family. This is my nephew Kieran. I'm looking after him while his parents are away."

"Kieran, luvvie, you couldn't be in safer hands," replied Saucy Sue, as she stretched out her right hand towards him. He was about to grasp it in a handshake when he felt it groping his bollocks. He gave a quick intake of breath, but quite enjoyed it in fact.

"I wouldn't mess with him, if I were you, Susan. He bites," at which Eric shifted the collar of his open necked shirt to reveal a fading lovebite.

"Oh, quite a little challenge, is he? Still, I mustn't stand around here listening to gossip. Love you and leave you. I'm meeting a new little friend this evening and must look my best, you know. Eric, if you ever tire of looking after this cute little dervish, you must call me. Hugs to you both. Bye."

"Who was that?" asked Kieran in an exasperated tone.

"You might ask 'what'? Susan, as she likes to be called, or Saucy Sue as we usually call her, is not what she seems as many a poor bloke who's picked her up has found out to his disappointment and chagrin. She is a man."

"What? Dressed up like that - in a wig, falsies and women's clothes?"

"That wasn't a wig. That was the one genuine part that was visible. He... she is a natural blonde. But if you get involved and slip your hand up her skirt, you will feel what are reportedly the largest, heaviest and lowest hung pair of bollocks in town. He's the youngest from a farming family and the story goes that his mother slept with the ram when he was conceived, while as far as I know, the other three children are perfectly normal."

"How do you know her?"

"I see her down at the Beaulieu Arms. That's one of the gay pubs in town."

"There are others?"

"Oh, yes. They all have their own atmosphere and clientele like straight pubs. The Beaulieu Arms is probably the most up-market one. Still, let's put this pack of tampons back on the shelf and get on with the shopping or we'll never be finished."

The rest of the shop went reasonably smoothly. Of course there were the routine frustrations at the check out - shortage of till staff and by the time the 'Code 1 to check outs' call went out Eric and Kieran had all their goods on the conveyor belt. Add to that the woman in front of them who insisted on packing all her goods before making any attempt to pay. Then she discovered her handbag was at the bottom of her trolley completely covered with packed carrier bags. When she did finally retrieve it, it was then decision time as to which card she was going to use. At least in the plastic window of her wallet was a list of all her cards clearly marked with their PINs. Playing the joker and going for a 10 for personal organisation she decided to leave it to the very last second of the transaction before asking for cashback.

Kieran wheeled the trolley to Eric's car and they stowed all their purchases in the boot.

"We'll go and park up the other end of the mall and then see whether we can find some modish underwear for you."