Jerry

By: Will B
(© 2009-2010 by the author)
 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chet has arrived in London and been met by his old friend, Gerald Winterson. They attended a meeting at Lambeth Palace. Among those attending the meeting was H.R.H. Prince Harry, who was interested in the work his late Mother, Princess Diana, was concerned with.

After the meeting Gerald drove Chet back to his hotel.

“Gerald, would you like to come up to my room for a nightcap?” Chet asked. “I noticed there is a mini-bar in the room.”

“That would be delightful, Chet, but don’t let me have more than one drink or I won’t be able to drive back to Lambeth, I’d … why I’d have to impose and spend the night.”

“Yes, Gerald, that’s what I was thinking,” was all Chet would say.

Chapter 30

The Conference continued for two days, and during that time, much preliminary groundwork was laid for establishing an international chain of ‘safe houses’ for abused children.  Gerald had invited Chet to move out of the hotel, and share his ‘digs’ in a comfortably furnished flat in London. The friendship between the two men continued to develop.

One morning at the conference, H.R.H. Prince Harry was excited. “Gentlemen,” began the Prince, “I have good news. J. Paul Smith, a reclusive millionaire, has died and left the Crown an estate some fifty miles out of London. His will stipulates that it is to be used for the care of homeless children. My Grandmother has asked me to see if it might be suitable for our safe houses.”

There was a sound of clapping and cries of ‘Hear! Hear!’  from the others. The Prince continued, “The manor house is in excellent repair, but it would be a good idea if two of us would visit the estate and report back on its size, the grounds, and any modifications that might have to be made. Unfortunately my schedule will not permit me to go, but perhaps, you, Your Grace, could choose two members of the committee to go.”

“Certainly, Sir. Umm… Gerald, I wonder if you and Rev. Chet would care to drive there and inspect the property?”

Gerald and Chet looked at each other and smiled, and Gerald replied, “Certainly, Your Grace, we’d be delighted.”

“Excellent, excellent. Plan to stay one or two nights. I am sure you can find a suitable inn or Bed and Breakfast that will accommodate you…and send the bill to Lambeth Palace.”

So it was that at one o’clock Gerald and Chet were driving out of London.  They had gone on-line and found an inn, the Dragon and Goat near the estate, where they could stay. They made reservations for two nights.

As they drove, Chet’s mind drifted back thirty-five years, to when he and Gerald had been students at Oxbridge College. Gerald had invited him to spend the ‘Long Vacation’ at his country cottage.

* * * * *

“Well this is it,” said Gerald, welcoming his friend Chet to his cottage in the country.

“It’s beautiful, Gerald. Do you live here all year long?”

“No, mainly in the summer, and the odd weekend or two in the winter. Mummy and Daddy are in Europe, so it’s just the two of us,” said Gerald.

“I see you have electricity and running water.”

“Oh, yes, all the ‘mod cons,’ as the real estate notices would say, but we do have fireplaces here and in the bedrooms. <pause> Suppose we unpack our bags and then I’ll take you to see the lake. It’s about half a mile from here, and it’s quite beautiful.”

The two young men walked through the woods down a slope towards the lake. The sun was shining, birds were singing. It was a beautiful day, and Chet had never felt so happy … ‘if only,’ he thought to himself. But he wasn’t quite sure what was missing.

As the two young men continued on, both in their twenties, both tall and fit looking, their hands occasionally touched.  ‘Mmm,’ thought Gerald, ‘this is super … if only…’ but he too wasn’t quite sure what was missing.

The lake was every bit as beautiful as Gerald had promised, and for twenty minutes the two friends, skipped stones across the lake, sat on a log and talked, skipped a few more stones, and sat and talked some more.

Suddenly the sky grew dark, and there was a rumble of thunder. “Uh oh,” said Gerald, “I think we’d better hurry back to the cottage.”

The two friends walked hurriedly back to the cottage, but not five minutes after they started, the skies opened, the rain came down, and the two men were soaked to the skin.

Opening the door to the cottage, Gerald said, “Get upstairs, get those clothes off and get yourself dry. I’ll light a fire in your bedroom. After we’re dry, I’ll fix us a nice cup of tea.”

Chet smiled, and said, “Why do you Brits always think that tea is the universal panacea for all ills?”

“I don’t know,” said Gerald. “Perhaps because it is. A cup of tea always makes me feel better.”

Chet ran upstairs took off his wet clothes and hung them in the bathroom, and wrapped a large towel around himself.

Gerald had knelt down by the fireplace, and lit a match. In a few seconds the kindling that had been laid caught and soon a cheery blaze was crackling in the air, and the heat was beginning to circulate throughout the room. Gerald laid a log on the fire and went into his own bedroom to change.

The rain was still pouring down, lashing against the windowpanes, and Chet walked over to the windows to draw the curtains. He sat on the edge of his bed, wrapped in his towel.

Gerald came back into the bedroom, also wrapped in a towel, and stood in the doorway. He must not have wrapped the towel too tightly because as he moved further into the room, the towel dropped, and he stood there, completely and gloriously in a state of nature.

Chet stared at his friend. He saw the broad shoulders, muscular arms and slim waist of one who did a lot of rowing or swimming. His gaze lowered and he saw Gerald’s flat abdomen, a light treasure trail of hair leading down to … to … the most beautiful pubic bush and … and the most … the most beautiful man’s penis he had ever seen. Six inches, it was, in a flaccid state, and its pink helmet was shining.

“Like what you see, Chet?” asked Gerald with a smile.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that you’re so … so … damn good looking I could… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Chet, you are my friend, and I am not offended. Actually that towel didn’t fall by accident. I dropped it deliberately. Why don’t you show me what you really think … what you want to do … what I hope you want to do…”

Chet didn’t need a second invitation. He stood up, dropped his towel, and moved toward his friend.

It was as if soul called to soul, mind reached out to mind, body yearned for body, and the two friends melted into each other’s arms.

* * * * *

Later that afternoon wrapped in each other’s arms, lying in Chet’s bed, listening to the rain and feeling the warmth of the fire, and the greater warmth of each other’s body, the two lay there, enjoying the afterglow.  Chet’s dark auburn hair contrasted with the fair hair of Gerald.

“How about that cup of tea? It’s time…” Gerald was saying.

* * * * *

“Hey, Chet, have you fallen asleep? It’s time. Wake up. We’re almost there,” Gerald said, and he reached his hand over and gave Chet’s leg a squeeze and a shake. Chet took the hand and raised it to his lips.

“I’m awake, Gerald. I was just remembering a rainy afternoon many years ago.”

“I know, my dear friend. I have never forgotten that day and how happy we were.”

 The car turned into a drive and approached the large—very large—mansion that they had come to inspect. It was a three-story house, built of a stone that glowed in the afternoon sun. Built in the reign of the first Elizabeth, the house had the characteristic E-shape of houses of the period.

Gerald and Chet got out of the car walked to the front door and pulled the bell handle. In a few minutes a woman wearing a severe black dress, her hair pulled tightly back in a bun, and with a bunch of keys at her waist, answered the door.

“Yes?” she uttered.

“I’m Gerald Winterson and this is Chet Thompson. We’ve come from Lambeth Palace in London to look over the property.”

‘Oh, gentlemen, please come in. I’m Mrs. Denver, the housekeeper. I had a telephone call from the solicitors saying you would be arriving.”

“I’m sorry,” said Chet. “Did you say Danvers?”

“No, no,” the housekeeper laughed. “I’m Jane Denver. I am absolutely no relation to that dreadful woman, Mrs. Danvers. People often make that mistake. Come in.”

“I’ll show you over the house to give you a general idea of the layout of the mansion, and then I’ll let you look over it on your own.” Chet then saw that Mrs. Denver was really a warm, friendly person.

The three people toured the ground floor, went up to the first floor (which Chet thought of as the second floor), and then up to the second (‘third’ thought Chet). They lost count of the number of public rooms, bedrooms, and bathrooms. Everything was immaculate.

“Mrs. Denver, do you do all this by yourself?” Gerald asked.

“Oh, no, Mr. Winterson. Twice a week a cleaning company comes in and makes sure everything is as it should be … Now why don’t I let you two roam around on your own, and I’ll go downstairs and fix us…”

‘She’s going to say it, I’ll just bet she is,’ Chet thought to himself.

“…a real English High Tea. Perhaps Mr. Thompson has never had High Tea. I have several different kinds of cake, some fruit, and I’ll make some sandwiches.”

“That would be delightful, Mrs. Denver,” Gerald said. “Perhaps we will take another half-hour or so, and then we will probably be ready for tea. I know I will.”

As the two men walked about the house, they discussed the possibilities that the house presented.

“I saw two large rooms that could be made into dormitories for young children, and there are enough bedrooms for older boys,” Chet said.

“Yes, and there are some suites that would do as apartments for teachers, doctors, and nurses. There has to be enough room for a live-in staff,” Gerald mused.

“Tonight, when we are in our room at the Inn, we will write down what we have seen and what might need to be done to get this place ready for boys,” Gerald said.

Chet and Gerald went to High Tea as served by Mrs. Denver.  She had prepared potted shrimp sandwiches, cucumber sandwiches, trifle, Victoria Sponge cake, chocolate cake, and pound cake with walnuts. And of course, there was tea—Indian and Chinese.

“Mrs. Denver, this is wonderful,” Chet said. “Did you bake all this yourself?”

“Oh, yes, sir. I love to cook.”

Gerald looked thoughtful for a few minutes, and then said, “Mrs. Denver, you may know that there are plans to turn this into a safe house for young boys who have run away or who have been the victims of abuse.”

Mrs. Denver replied, “Yes, I thought that might be what my late employer had in mind. The poor lads! I think the idea of a ‘safe house’ as you put it would be wonderful.”

“Well, Mrs. Denver, I cannot make you a firm offer, but this safe house is going to have doctors, nurses, psychologists, and teachers, but we’re also going to need staff to maintain the property, and we’re going to need someone to do the cooking. If there were an opening, would you….?”

“Mr. Winterson, I would be honored to be considered for the position. You may not know this, but Mr. Smith, often had business conferences here, and he suggested that I get a chef’s certificate from a culinary school in London, and that the kitchen be up to standards set by the Ministry of Health.”

“Gerald, if my opinion counts for anything, I am certainly going to recommend to the committee that they consider Mrs. Denver very carefully for the position,” Chet said. “And, Mrs. Denver, is there any more tea in that pot?”

“Chet we’ll make a tea drinker out of you, yet,” Gerald said, and lightly punched him on the arm.

After further conversation, Gerald stood up and said, “Mrs. Denver, we’re going back to our inn for the night. After this meal, we may not need any dinner, but we would like to come back tomorrow and see the grounds. We’ll be here at say … ten o’clock.”

“And please plan to stay for luncheon,” Mrs. Denver said with a smile. “Lunch will be at 1:30 sharp.”

“You know, Mrs. Denver, I know now that you remind me of a housekeeper on a British comedy that I sometimes watch in the States, so may I just say, as one of the characters says, ‘Rock on!’”

That got a laugh from Mrs. Denver, and the two men went out to their car. As they drove back to the inn, storm clouds gathered, and Gerald said, “We’d better step on it, or we’ll get drenched getting from the car to the Inn.”

They did get a little wet, but when the landlord showed them to the room, they knew they would be quite comfortable for the next two or three days, The room had a table, two chairs, a minibar, a coffee maker, and two queen size beds. The room had its own private bath. Blue curtains shut out the rain and much of the noise of the thunder. An electric fire, with two bars glowing, provided plenty of warmth.

That night, after writing up their notes on Gerald’s laptop and making a list of things to look for the next day, Gerald said, “Why don’t you have a shower while I pack up my laptop and unpack my bags. Then I’ll have my shower while you unpack your things.”

“An excellent idea, Gerald.”

Chet took his shower and came back into the bedroom to unpack. He had a large towel wrapped around his waist.

When Gerald came out of the bathroom, Chet stood up, and dropped his towel. Gerald stared, entranced at Chet’s naked body. No fat—well, not much, anyhow—was attached to the body. If the hair were no longer dark auburn, but gray, Chet’s smile was as warm as ever, and the love in his eyes was just as welcoming as it had been all those years ago.

Chet held his arms out and said just one word, “Come!”

The two men moved together, and everything else was forgotten as they once more enjoyed the bliss of lovers’ meeting.

The next morning they went back to the manor, and after telling Mrs. Denver, they walked over the property. They saw fields where boys could ride horses, they saw barns where horses and cows could be housed, and Gerald said, “You know, Chet, I think one of the things this place might offer would be courses in animal husbandry. Many boys like animals and this would just be … well…”

“I know, Gerald, I think it’s a good idea to work towards.”

Promptly at 1:30 the two presented themselves to Mrs. Denver, who gave them a stern look, sniffed, and said, “Now have my two fine gentlemen washed their hands?  Hmm?” The stern look vanished, to be replaced by a  smile.

“Mrs. Denver, I almost said ‘Yes, Nanny!’” Gerald said.

Chet asked, “Mrs. Denver, might I ask…? Would it be too much trouble…? Is there any chance of a...?”

“Nice cup of tea?” Gerald and Mrs. Denver finished the question in unison and everyone laughed.

Lunch was finished much too soon, and Gerald and Chet said goodbye to Mrs. Denver and hugged her. She gave them both a kiss on the cheek, and bade them a safe trip back to London.

The trip back to London was uneventful. Both guys were thinking of their friendship, and what would the future bring.

“Chet, I…” Gerald began.

“Gerald, do you…” Chet began to ask, almost at the same time.

“Dear Chet, what future do we have together? I have my position at Lambeth Palace and you have to go back to the States.”

“Gerald, I don’t know. We have been apart for so long, and now we have found each other again…” Chet replied.

“I wish I could be like Mr. Micawber in Dickens’ story, and just say, Oh, well, something will turn up!”

The two arrived back in London, back to Gerald’s digs, and found a note from the Archbishop, asking them to meet with him at 9:30 the next morning.

Accordingly, the next morning Gerald and Chet were back at Lambeth Palace in the Archbishop’s study.

His Grace asked them about their trip, and as they told him of their findings, he watched them closely. He noticed how they looked at each other as they talked, and noted the looks on their faces.

Finally, he said, “I think that is a very clear report and I thank you both. Now, for another matter … Chet, I believe you are returning to America tomorrow on the Sheik’s jet.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Is it a large plane, comfortable and all that?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Good, good. Now this is what I am thinking. Gerald, you and I have worked together for a long time, and we have worked well together. Lately, however, I have thought you seemed tired.”

“Oh, no, Your Grace.”

“Oh, yes, my friend. I want you to accompany your friend, your very good friend, Chet ,back to America, and visit this Souchard Hotel and see how the boys there are doing. Would you be willing to do this?”

“Would I?  Oh, yes, Your Grace, I certainly would. Thank you. Thank you very much.”

The Archbishop smiled, and said, “And when your month is up, I want you to take an additional two-month’s leave. Naturally, your salary will still be paid, and you can make whatever living arrangements are convenient.”

“Your Grace, I don’t know what to say,” Gerald said.

“Why don’t you just say, ‘Yes, Your Grace, whatever you say, Your Grace.’ Now I think you probably have some packing to do, so I am giving you the rest if the day off.  I’ll be at the airport tomorrow to see you off. And Chet … take good care of Gerald. He’s a very special person.”

“Yes, Your Grace. I will. Thank you. Thank you so much!”

After a day’s packing, planning, visiting his bank, and making all the arrangements he had to make, Gerald was tired.

In the apartment, Chet said, “Gerald, let’s act like a couple of nineteen year old studs, and shower together.”

Gerald’s eyes widened, first in puzzlement, then in delight. “Great idea, Chet. Let’s do it.”

The two men got into the shower together, and the warm water played over their bodies, relaxing tired muscles, washing away their worries. Chet put his arms around Gerald from behind, pulled him close to him, and kissed his ear, and then his neck.

Gerald just said, “Mmmmm!”

Chet ran his hands over Gerald’s chest and his nipples. Gerald just said, “Aaaahhh!”

Chet ran his hands up and down Gerald’s abdomen and sides. Gerald just leaned back closer into Chet’s embrace.

Chet moved his hand down to Gerald’s mist precious possession, and gently rubbed it. Gerald began to respond, and then, suddenly, turned around, knelt down, and ran his tongue over Chet’s slit. His lips kissed the helmet. His tongue ran ’round the base of the helmet.

Chet leaned back around the wall of the shower, closed his eyes in ecstasy, and felt as if he were in paradise.

Gerald’s mouth enveloped Chet’s organ, and moved back and forth, his tongue doing its job, doing its job, DOING ITS JOB until Chet delivered his sweet man-milk right where it was supposed to go.

Chet reached down and helped Gerald stand, and he kissed Gerald on his mouth, his tongue invading that orifice. “Gerald, I love you.”

“And I you, Chet.”

To be continued...  (now that Chet and Gerald’s future together seems a little brighter).

Author’s Note # 1: For those who may not watch many British comedies, I have used lines from three of them. Can you guess the line and from which comedy they were taken.

Author’s Note # 2: It appears that the Cumberland Cum Shotters won the contest.

As usual, my heartfelt thanks to my good friend and reader, A. Nony Mouse.

Posted: 01/29/10