Sunday was not as dire as it had threatened to be. Kieran got up at about nine o'clock and gave serious thought to wearing his cock cage, partly as an act of discipline and partly to save himself for the opportunities he was anticipating later in the week with William. When he remembered that he had control of the key, it seemed rather pointless. He cooked himself a full breakfast, not just because it was Sunday, but it would help to fill in the time.

"Oh, bugger," he said out loud. "We've run out of tomato ketchup. I must put it on the list. I'll have to make do with HP sauce." 'That's the trouble at the moment,' he thought. 'I've got time to do the shopping, but without a car I can't carry very much of it home.' He looked at the family calendar. 'Oh no, it's another ten days before Mum and Dad get back.'

Then the phone rang. 'Who can that be? Probably it's Mrs McLarney to say that William had such a wonderful time yesterday that could I come across and give that tight little arse of his a pounding he'll never forget... and by the way you're invited to stay for a Sunday roast lunch afterwards. Then perhaps not.' Kieran looked at the caller ID: international.

«We just wanted to know how you were coping and that you're managing during half term.»

"A bit lonely. Most of my school chums use this week to go away. Not entirely alone. One of them called round yesterday and I'm going round to his tomorrow."

«Now, our big news is that we've signed a very big contract in South Africa. It promises to keep you at the College for two years and university afterwards and a bit left over for us in our retirement as well.»

«A big one we're hoping. Still another ten days to go. Kieran, we've got a bit of a conscience leaving you on your own over half term.»

«We'll make it up to you next term. We'll keep half term clear in February, whatever, and you can choose what we do. Here's your mother again. She wants to speak to you. Bye, son.»

«Yes, back home we might be able to relax a bit now and just do routine work. Have you got everything you need?»

"No, Mum. I've just run out of tomato sauce for Sunday breakfast. Otherwise everything's okay."

"I'm not going to be good. I'm going to be excellent, but we're probably talking about different things."

Kieran was pleased with the success his parents had had and it made all their travelling worthwhile. It was a family firm and he didn't know whether he would be joining it yet or not. That was his decision, but he also wanted to do other things first. He knew the assets would eventually pass to him, even if he was not running the company. He also knew that Uncle Eric would be its financial director one day, but again he wanted to gain more experience and there were some years to go until Dean and Colleen reached retirement age.

Kieran went upstairs and switched his computer on to check his e-mails. He was surprised to see one from Orlando. This was the first communication they had had since parting after their return from Austria, not out of neglect, but because they had to be brave little soldiers after ending their relationship. He read it off screen:

«My dear Kieran - and I do mean 'dear' even after a couple of months' absence. I thought it might well be half term and I was wondering how you were settling down at the College.

«I am getting used to life at uni. It was a bit difficult at first getting down to academic work after a year out. It also made a difference because some the other students appear young (and so immature) to me.

«The real reason for mailing is to tell you that I have found a new boyfriend and I wanted you to be the first person I told. His name is Nicky and he's a fun person to be with. A bit camp at times, but I like that in my men. The main thing is that he is all boy as I have come to find out (hee hee!), nothing femme about him at all despite the occasional campness.

«We met at the uni LGTB Society - HomSoc we call it. We've left it now to the advantage of both sides. First of all there was the attitude problem - that is our attitude was not quite right for theirs. The members there were so serious and intense, always organising parades, putting up notices, interfering in other people's lives, and the way some of them act and look, they give decent, clean living gays like us a bad name. They know how to take the gay out of being gay. The latest bee in their bonnet is that they want to term people like us as 'cisgender'. Cisgender people are those who are not transgender, that is the vast majority of normal people, but 'normal' is not PC. The tag's supposed to stop the crossdressers feeling bad. They've forgotten how to enjoy the gay life.

«How is your love life, Kieran? You must be surrounded by beauties at the College. I've seen them out and about in town (and ~~serviced~~, whoops! I mean served them at Domino's).

«I'd love to hear back from you, but will understand if you don't want to get in contact. I still love you, Kieran.

Kieran sat back in his executive swivel chair, reread the mail and thought about it. He was pleased that Orlando was still in love with him. It flattered his ego. On the other hand he was glad that he had found a boyfriend. It sounded pretty recent. Kieran hoped Orlando's new relationship would divert his attention away from the past. If it didn't, Orlando was the only one who would be hurt and he didn't want that. It also gave Kieran more freedom and salved his conscience in so far as he only had two boys on the go instead of three. That was another problem he had to think through. Jack was there to provide a steady relationship and be a constant sex-buddy, if that is what he wanted. The other side of the coin was that William appealed very much to the romantic, irrational side of sexual attraction. However, because he was so young he was forbidden fruit, and that increased the desire. Who was it that wrote 'He just could not help himself. Is that the secret of that age? So much emerging sexuality that you can't help ... flaunting it? Being a tart? Is that what usually has happened for all those sad old men had up for molesting teenagers? Are they subjected to similar treatment? Offered something on a plate, then persecuted for accepting it?'? Then he remembered. It was William Corlett in Now and Then. How true that was. It applied both to the St Sergius experience and the William relationship. He should have learnt his lesson, but Kieran was discovering that lessons like that might appeal to the head, but certainly didn't apply to the spirit.

He went out to buy a newspaper. He wrapped up warm for there was a chill in the air, a warning that winter was on its way. What an awful time of year this was with its short days and few opportunities to enjoy the outdoors. You had to arm yourself with indoor entertainments and these days with the commercial pressures reinforced by your peers it was difficult to provide your own entertainment. Yes, there were DVDs, CDs, computer games, TV, newspapers and magazines, even clubs and pubs if you were interested and over eighteen, but all mainly low brow, aimed at those in society that the powers that be thought had the money, but who usually turned out to be those who could least afford spending it and were at the same time the least reluctant to do so. Newspapers were on his list, but why was he now going out to buy one? Because he always went out to buy the newspapers on a Sunday, but having passed the point of no return, he wasn't going to return home empty handed.

Was Kieran despondent? Had he thought himself into a state of temporary depression? Not really. He was in a dichotomy. As an only child he had learnt to provide his own amusement and by and large he was content to do so, but so often that amusement was observing what was going on around him. It was that which jaundiced his outlook in his introspective moments. He needed people about him to pull him back from the path of cynicism.

On reaching the front door he could hear the telephone ringing. By the time he had dropped the newspaper, spilt its several sections across the doorstep and opened the front door it had stopped. He sorted the paper out, then dialled 1571. Voicemail. It was Uncle Eric. 'What can have gone wrong this weekend?' he thought, the cynic on the advance. He listened to the message. «Give us a ring as soon as you've finished shagging your boyfriend, you randy little ferret.» 'Great. What if Mrs Crater had picked that up tomorrow, or he missed it and it was still there in ten days time for his parents to listen to?' he thought. He pressed 3 to delete very quickly and rang back.

"I thought I'd make an omelette with the few remaining crumbs of cheese left from last night."

«No, no, nothing like that. I'll tell you later. We're booked in at the carvery at 12.15. It seems a shame to waste a booking, especially on a Sunday. Hen's teeth and all that.»

"Okay, if we do that, can we stop off at Waitrose on the way back, please? The cupboard's a bit bare. It's too much to carry on my bike and too far to walk with a heavy load."

After that Kieran spent time collecting his thoughts on what he was going to talk to William about the next day. If he left it, he was afraid that he might not get it done for after lunch Eric could just leave him at home and that was it, or he could come in for a cup of tea and stay until his bedtime.

At noon Kieran heard a car hoot outside. He pulled on a sweater over his polo shirt and changed his trainers for a proper pair of shoes, left the house and climbed into Eric's car.

"Well, Mum and Dad have been away for some time now and being at school and having no transport makes it difficult to stock up."

"Good question. There's a nice piece of steak in the freezer, but I forgot to take it out to defrost, and defrosting it in the micro sounds quite a good way to ruin it, and so that just left the cheese omelette option without the cheese."

"I'm pleased you're not neglecting your culinary skills. So, what's the crumpet situation at the moment?"

The carvery was already filling up. It was a good job that Eric had booked. It was very popular and while you could just walk in during the week, at the weekends not booking would mean a very long wait. Eric and Kieran were shown to their table. They ordered drinks and then took their place in the queue at the servery. Kieran chose gammon and beef without Yorkshire pudding, then he filled his plate with vegetables.

"I can see a spare gap on your plate," said Eric sarkily. "Just there," and he pointed. "You know you can come back for a free refill, don't you?"

"So come on then. Spill the beans," said Kieran. "You've been holding back long enough."

"Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin. Well, there's not much of a story. To cut to the quick he... that is to say Vivian..." and here Eric's voice dropped to a whisper "...couldn't get it on. Impotent. Flip flop floppy and sadly such a lot to flop."

"No, to me, Kieran. There I am at my most seductive and I can't get him hard. Tried everything - snogging him, feeling him, sucking him, everything except putting a knitting needle inside it to keep it stiff."

"I wouldn't say that. His bottom certainly wasn't impotent, but the trouble was this morning. We woke early as it was, because of the clocks going back..."

"and after another try, Vivian got fed up and said he'd better be going home. So that's why I've suddenly got Sunday free. Mind you, he insisted on having his breakfast before going."

Kieran and Eric got on with their meals before they grew cold. Kieran told him about Jack being away on holiday and then William unexpectedly arrived on his doorstep on Saturday morning.

"I know it's a mere detail, Eric, but I'm seventeen and he's thirteen, rising fourteen, which makes him highly illegal. He's small for his age, though I'm certainly not talking about the trouser department where he is anything but small. Add to that the fact that I have a track record and, were we to have fully consensual penetrative sex, that would automatically make me guilty of rape. So straightaway there are four problems to be going on with. Then all he has to do is look up at me with those big brown doe-like eyes and smile and I go weak at the knees, get a boner if my mood's right, and do what he wants me to do."

"No!" said Kieran emphatically, emphatically enough to make several of the closer diners turn round and stare at Kieran and Eric. "Not yet..." he whispered with deliberation. They carried on with some serious lunch-eating until people forgot what they had been staring at and were getting on with their own meals.

After an ice cream Eric paid up and he and Kieran made their way back to the car to make the journey home via the supermarket. He took advantage of Eric's car to do a full shop, which should get him through half term. Fortunately he had been entrusted with the family credit card and so payment was no problem. He just had to make sure he kept the receipt carefully so that his mother could do her household accounts when she got back. Eric came in for a cup of coffee. Kieran didn't mind if he stopped for the afternoon, but hoped he would go then as he wanted to get on with working out what he should do with William the following day as far as his apprenticeship was concerned.

While the coffee was percolating, Eric idly picked up the copy of GY lying on the coffee table in the living room.

"A German competitive cyclist. Before he was eighteen he used to model in cycling bib shorts. Very hot, and as they do, GY grabbed him to model nude for them when he turned eighteen. Well worth waiting for, don't you think?"

"Don't know," said Eric. "I didn't have to wait for him because I'd never heard of him. You obviously did."

"I think he'd done some modelling for Bravo, but they've got a different attitude to the naked human body in Germany and you can model nude at an earlier age."

By five o'clock it was already dark and Eric decided to go home. He was a little more cheerful than he had been earlier in the day. He'd give Vivian a ring to see that he was all right.

"See ya tomorrow for the gym, Eric," said Kieran as his uncle was getting into his car.

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The Apprentice

by and © N Fourbois

Chapter 38