On 13 Oct 2010 17:45:02 -0500, " +Grant. " <+Grant@grant.grant> wrote:
>In article <enebb65og9itip0aql5kk8ti21nfsc6hg8@4ax.com>, HMS Victor
>Victorian <victorvictorian@hushunomail.com> wrote:
>
>> Act 5, Scene 3
>>
>> The Garden of Eden
>> Saturday, April 17th, 10:00 am.
>>
>> Having gotten dressed and eaten breakfast, Nigel and Evan dash outside
>> in high spirits, intending to go directly to the Evan's home on the
>> corner. They skip down Tennyson Avenue side by side, swinging Nigel's
>> Pooh between them. Nigel chants his magical incantation and Evan
>> chants his more scandalous one, the clapping and slapping of their
>> tennis shoes keeping time. Nigel abruptly stops with an irritated
>> expression.
>>
>> "Evan," Nigel complained, "I keep saying 'poopy' instead of 'dirty.'
>> You're making me get it all wrong."
>>
>> At which juncture Evan, of course, was compelled to repeat the
>> offending word several times, and laugh.
>>
>> "Well, I'm not going to chant anymore, then," Nigel said.
>>
>> "Alright, "Evan said, "We'll take turns."
>>
>> A bold idea struck Nigel.
>>
>> "What about an adventure?" he suggested brightly, "Let's go 'round to
>> your house the long way, down to Dean Street, then up Mooreland and
>> around."
>>
>> Evan wasn't enthusiastic.
>>
>> "There's just more houses like ours there, and I think some big boys
>> live on that street." he said a little fearfully. "I'm going home the
>> short way."
>>
>> "Alright," Nigel said, determined to have an adventure that Saturday,
>> despite a reluctant friend. "I'll come to your house when Pooh and I
>> are done exploring."
>>
>> So Nigel left Evan, who turned about and walked up Tennyson. Nigel,
>> with Pooh flopping along, trotted down Tennyson for what seemed quite
>> a time, until coming to Dean Street. He turned left. He walked one
>> block, which seemed a kilometre to him, to Mooreland, where he took
>> another right. He'd been there before, he believed, for it all looked
>> very familiar. Of course, the town houses all looked similar and,
>> therefore, familiar.
>>
>> Suddenly, the boy saw something very familiar but not at all welcomed.
>> There was a large boy, with several other companions, coming down
>> Mooreland towards him. Nigel pressed Pooh to his heart with both
>> arms.
>>
>> It was Dirk, the boy who had taken his Pooh watch.
>>
>> Dirk saw Nigel and, even with his clothes on, recognised him right
>> off.
>>
>> "Hey, you l'il homo!" the big boy yelled in such a way as to make his
>> violent intent completely obvious.
>>
>> Nigel took off like a race car, his feet pounding just as fast as he
>> could make them, with Dirk and his friends in hot pursuit.
>>
>> "I'll ge' you!" Dirk threatened. "You l'il shit."
>>
>> But he couldn't, and neither could any of his friends. Nigel was
>> quick, even carrying Pooh, and jetted across the street and past the
>> next corner. He ran and ran and ran, desperately puffing out his
>> incantation between breaths.
>>
>> "Dirty ... monkey's ... poopy ... Oh! Bother!"
>>
>> And he had to clap his thigh with one hand since he was using the
>> other to hold Pooh during their wild escape. Finally, he slowed just
>> enough to safely look back. To his intense relief, Dirk was nowhere
>> to be seen. The incantation had worked again, even if he'd said a
>> wrong word here and there.
>>
>> The trouble was that Nigel was also nowhere. Well, certainly he was
>> somewhere, but he had no particular idea where. He was on street of
>> town houses, but the numbers and the doors were all strange, and he
>> became very concerned. He was lost!
>>
>> So Nigel timidly crept along the pavement until he came to a street
>> sign. It said, 'Wickham Avenue.' That was something recognisable, at
>> any rate, and he walked a little more confidently, though not having a
>> clue as to where he was going. Then he halted.
>>
>> Down the row a man had come out of his home, dressed in gray shorts
>> and a green tee shirt, to fetch a lawn rake. It was Harry Campbell,
>> the grounds man at St. Peter's! Nigel burst into a sprint and called
>> his name with all breath he could spare.
>>
>> "HARRY!"
>>
>> But Harry hadn't heard. By the time Nigel reached the home, he'd
>> gone inside. The front door was wide open, so Nigel knocked quite as
>> ferociously as he could, but no one came. Then, in spite of the fact
>> he could be in trouble, he stepped into the foyer and padded across
>> the parlour toward the kitchen. No sign of life anywhere.
>>
>> "Perhaps he's had a stroke, Pooh," Nigel rationalised, "We'd better go
>> see."
>>
>> The house was full of so many things. Pictures and plaques and a
>> wicket and cricket bat and ball on the mantle, and papers and
>> magazines scattered on the furniture, and on the floor. There was a
>> plate here, a dirty fork there, an empty bottle of stout, an old
>> paraffin lamp, and then Nigel came across a dramatic discovery.
>>
>> There, on an enormous padded chair, was all that remained of poor
>> Harry ... a pile of clothes: a green tee shirt, a pair of old gray
>> shorts with big pockets, and a pair of plaid underpants ...boxers ...
>> baggy ones like Nigel's father wore.
>>
>> "I'll bet he's in the bath ..." Nigel said, matter-of-factly, to Pooh,
>> and made for the foot of the stairs. At that moment he heard Harry's
>> voice, not upstairs, but in the garden. So he turned about and
>> hurried through the kitchen, mentally preparing his alibi about the
>> stroke and all.
>>
>> The back door was wide open, as well. As Nigel came onto the porch,
>> he no longer heard Harry, but the abrupt yapping of a terrier. The
>> small dog rushed up, snarling at the boy's ankles. Nigel danced back,
>> depending on Pooh for protection.
>>
>> "Ralphy! Is it that bloody cat again?" came the grounds man's voice,
>> "Ralphy! Sod it all!"
>>
>> The terrier immediately streaked off and Nigel hid behind a patio
>> chair. Out of the garden emerged Harry Campbell and his dog. The
>> very first thought that occurred to Nigel, peeking through the chair
>> back, was that Harry had managed to forget his own incantation. Other
>> than holding a lawn rake, he was completely naked.
>>
>> Nigel had cleverly concealed himself behind the patio chair, but it
>> was Pooh's hindquarters that betrayed him.
>>
>> "Oh, dear ..." Harry said, suddenly feeling painfully awkward, "Hello,
>> Pooh! Who is there with you?"
>>
>> Nigel stood up.
>>
>> "Nigel, my boy!" Harry exclaimed, both baffled and relieved, "What the
>> bugger ... I mean, what are you doing here, lad?"
>>
>> "I'm lost," Nigel replied, hugging Pooh, "And I saw you and I didn't
>> know where to go ... and I knocked and knocked and no one came so I
>> went in. Are you angry with me?"
>>
>> "Not at all!" the grounds man said, setting his rake aside. "I see
>> you've met Ralphy."
>>
>> "He's very brave," the small boy said.
>>
>> "Yes," Harry admitted, "He's quite protective, particularly back here
>> in the garden, and particularly when I'm ... well ... in this state."
>>
>> "You look very comfortable." Nigel observed.
>>
>> "Yes, I am." Harry laughed, "Say! What do you say to lemonade? You
>> wait here. I'll be right back. Don't worry," he reassured, "Ralphy
>> won't bite. He knows we're friends, now."
>>
>> And the grounds man disappeared into the house. He shortly returned
>> with two crystalline glasses of pink lemonade, tinkling with ice...
>> and wearing his pair of plaid boxers.
>>
>> "Here you are, son ..." He extended a glass to Nigel, but drew back a
>> bit in surprise.
>>
>> "Well!" Harry observed brightly, "I see you've gotten comfy."
>>
>> "Is it alright? I thought it was your garden rule," Nigel replied,
>> "No one allowed in the garden with clothes on."
>>
>> Harry gave a laugh.
>>
>> "Yes!" He confessed. "Yes, it is!"
>>
>> "It's a nice rule, "Nigel said, and took a sip of lemonade.
>>
>> Harry gazed down momentarily at Nigel, and then he peeled off his
>> under pants.
>>
>> "Bring your lemonade and Pooh," the grounds man said, "And I'll show
>> you my own garden."
>>
>> Initially, the garden wasn't much to look at, for the part nearest the
>> house was a clutter, not unlike the house itself. Pots and old
>> boards, a broken trellis, a hand cart, trowels and watering cans and
>> hoses piled up to make a nearly impenetrable barrier. But once Harry
>> placed a hand gently on Nigel's back and guided him through an arbour,
>> the boy was captivated.
>>
>> Beyond the arbour was a secret world, such jungle that one might
>> expect macaw monkeys swinging through the trees. There was a verdant
>> lawn winding in and out of alder and pussy willow, plum and silver
>> birch, all surrounded by cascades of ivy and early spring flowers:
>> foxglove and lilies, honeysuckle, peonies and delphiniums. Right in
>> front of the boy was a small cedar gazebo, and to his right a
>> shimmering pond.
>>
>> "Go look at the pond," Harry urged.
>>
>> Nigel followed the stone path up to the pond. There was a little
>> waterfall burbling out and, looking down into the water, the boy
>> gasped.
>>
>> "Pollywogs!"
>>
>> It was a boy's paradise, most assuredly.
>>
>> "Is this the Garden of Eden?" Nigel breathed in wonderment.
>>
>> "No," Harry joked, "You can eat off any tree you want here, and I
>> won't throw you out!"
>>
>> Nigel instinctively reached up to pluck a bunch of red berries. The
>> grounds man grabbed his hand.
>>
>> "No, Nigel." He warned, "That's holly. It'll make you dreadfully ill
>> and you'll have to go to hospital."
>>
>> "Oh," the little boy replied, giving the berries a disapproving frown,
>> and then sat at the edge of the fountain.
>>
>> "So, what do you think?" Harry asked, sitting beside the boy. "Do you
>> like it?"
>>
>> "Oh, yes!" Nigel breathed. "You can be comfortable and pick flowers or
>> climb a tree like a naked Indian and not have anyone bother you, like
>> Mrs. Whitby."
>>
>> "You're absolutely right," the gardener laughed. "It's freedom. Here,
>> I'm as free as a monkey."
>>
>> "You're not a monkey."Nigel giggled in delight. "You're Harry ... and
>> you are hairy! Especially down there and on your back and bottom ..."
>>
>> Nigel was so tickled at his cleverness that his eyes got wide and he
>> clapped a hand over his mouth before he got overly-giggly, then he
>> added, "So it's alright to be starkers?"
>>
>> "Of course it's alright!" Harry exclaimed, "You just can't do it any
>> place at all. People get all bothered, you see, without any good
>> reason, really, and cause trouble. That's why it's good to have a
>> private garden."
>>
>> The small boy thought for a bit.
>>
>> "You're not a grown up person at all," Nigel concluded solemnly and
>> smiled, "You're a boy like me. You're just extra big."
>>
>> Harry quickly glanced away, for the first time truly embarrassed.
>>
>> Concerned, Nigel scooted right next to him, skin touching skin, and
>> took the man's huge hand in his small one.
>>
>> "I'm sorry," Nigel apologised, "I didn't mean to make you sad."
>>
>> "No worries," the gardener said, distracted, "... it's a good sad ..."
>>
>> "Like when you wiggle a loose tooth?"
>>
>> Harry looked back, smiled and gently cupped Nigel's hand between both
>> of his.
>>
>> "Precisely!"
>>
>> "Can I ask you a question?"
>>
>> "Certainly," the gardener replied, clearing his throat, "Anything."
>>
>> "Could you come to my house for a sleep-over?" Nigel suggested, "We
>> could play a game. I've got a cat ... "
>>
>> Harry softly petted the back of Nigel's head.
>>
>> "I'd love to, but I don't think it's a very good idea."
>>
>> Disappointed, Nigel sat for awhile, sipping lemonade and listening to
>> the singing of the fountain and the birds. Then, without comment, he
>> set Pooh and his glass aside, climbed up and sat in Harry's lap,
>> facing him. He scruitinised the man's chest.
>>
>> "You're like a black sheep," Nigel observed in a mischievous tone, and
>> then wiggled his small fingers into the man's mat of chest hair,
>> investigating the coarse and kinky quality. The boy's affectionate
>> exploration was innocent, but for Harry it was at once delightfully
>> sensual and alarmingly erotic. Fascinated by the texture, Nigel laid
>> a cheek against the man's woolly chest.
>>
>> "Oh!" the boy exclaimed, "You're heart is beating like Indian drums!"
>>
>> "Yes, it is, isn't it?" The gardener managed to say, caressing Nigel's
>> back with a hand, "Like excited drums."
>>
>>
>> With his cheek nestling in over Harry's thundering heart, Nigel again
>> combed his fingers through the man's chest hair and ran them down over
>> his hirsute stomach. A wave of longing abruptly swept over Harry,
>> cascading down through his heart and into his abdomen. A feverish
>> stirring and swelling in his groin slowly began to fill the space
>> between his tummy and Nigel's, then reaching its apex, pulsed intently
>> against the boy's soft warmth and brushing against the boy's delicate
>> hand.
>>
>> "No, Nigel," Harry intended to say, trying to force himself to lift
>> the boy off, but he could only manage to whisper, "Oh, Nigel ..."
>>
>> Just for a moment, Nigel's curious fingers instinctively closed over
>> the new object. Suddenly he drew his hand back, leaned far back and
>> glanced down in wonderment and surprise.
>>
>>
>> At last, the boy found his voice.
>>
>> "Look. I've got one, too." Nigel noted, smiling almost nonchalantly,
>> then demonstrated by arching back and poking Harry's navel with it a
>> few times.
>>
>> The man could only nod.
>>
>> "But mine's small!" Nigel complained, reaching down gently to make a
>> closer comparison, "It's like a little peg."
>>
>> Harry gave a little chuckle. "It's a very nice one, just the way it is
>> ..."
>>
>> "You're shaky," Nigel observed, putting his hands on Harry's heaving
>> chest. "Are you cold?"
>>
>> "No," the man stammered. "It's just that ... well ... damn it all.
>> You're a wonderful boy and I'm afraid I've become quite fond of you.
>> Do you mind very much?"
>>
>> Without answering, Nigel rose up on his knees. He laid his cheek
>> against Harry's stubbly one and wrapped his arms around the man's
>> sun-tanned neck. Then he gave him an affectionate hug that nearly
>> brought Harry to tears. In pressing against Nigel's comforting warmth
>> and hearing the lad's heart pattering away like a rabbit's, inhaling
>> the boy's moist breath and feeling the tickle of the boy's eyelashes
>> brushing his cheeks, in breathing the intimate scents of a small boy's
>> embrace; he was sent reeling back in remembrance of the joys he'd
>> shared, and then lost, so many years ago at Leeds.
>>
>> Nigel sat back with an innocent smile and the spell was broken.
>>
>> "Don't be sad, Harry," the boy comforted, "Can I come back to your
>> garden sometime?"
>>
>> Harry enveloped the boy in his two strong arms and gave him a long,
>> fervent cuddle.
>>
>> "Why, of course you can." Harry promised, "Any time you feel
>> uncomfortable."
>>
>> HMSVV2010
>
>
>A Secret Garden, with the (Golden) "Garden Rule"! I love it.
>
>I like this a lot too:
>"The trouble was that Nigel was also nowhere. Well, certainly he was
>somewhere, but he had no particular idea where."
>I wish I could write like that.
>
>The last part of this scene is wonderfully described and very romantic.
>I never thought of eyelash tickling.
>
>I wonder what you will write next?
Dear Grant,
I am very gratified to have received such praise, as you can imagine.
I had rewritten Harry and Nigel's encounter several times, at last
deciding on a less graphic and more evocative description of the
sexual situation confronting Harry, wishing to create a sensual,
rather than base pornographic, scene. Do you think it was obtuse or
ineffective?
Thank you very much. I'd say more, but I've got an appointment to
have my athletic supporter adjusted ... again! Ha!
Sincerely Yours,
V
God Save the Queen.
God Bless the Prince of Wales.
God Preserve the Windsors.
Rule Britannia!
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