THE RICHARD FILES
Chapter 1
Richard sat at his desk trying to correct papers. He scratched his head, he tried to think seriously, he looked at the clock to gauge his progress but still the banging outside his room went on. Five papers marked and he still had ten to go. He looked at the clock again. He ruffled his neat, brown hair and the longer strands on top started to fall over his brow, reminding him of his age. Finally, he could take no more. He gave a sigh, rose from his chair and purposefully strode towards the door and pulled it open.
Christian and Rachel were squatting on the floor in the corridor leaning against the wall. Christian casually stopped bouncing the tennis ball against the door and politely diverted his attention to the irate figure standing on the threshold, hanging on to the doorknob, his knuckles turning white.
"What's happening here?" It had been a long time since he had acted like a school teacher and not the Senior Research Fellow (Climatology) in the Department of Earth Sciences.
Christian stuttered a few words while forming his thoughts and settled on logic as a sensible reaction.
"We were just, sort of, playing with this ball...waiting," he replied, looking at Rachel for reassurance as she smiled sweetly and nodded in assent.
"Well, please stop." Richard made to go back into his room and as he disappeared from view he paused with the door slightly ajar and stuck his head back out.
"Why exactly are you here anyway?"
Rachel gestured towards the door next to Richard's. "We were supposed to have an introduction to the Department from Dr. Dawson. This is the open day, you know."
"Yes, I know that. Well if my experience is any guide you might have a long wait." He looked with sympathy at them, seeing their youth and innocence.
"Well, you better come in here and I will try and help you if I can." Richard opened his door wide and gestured through it with a fixed smile.
The room had a nice balance between tidiness and workmanlike chaos. There was a faint smell of rich pipe tobacco but everything in the room looked modern, from the computer on the sleek pine desk to the fine prints on the wall. There were a couple of intriguing views of clouds hanging beside a picture that Rachel recognised as an Escher creation: one of those impossible staircases that endlessly rose upwards if you traced the steps.
Scattered about the room were a liberal number of books, some on shelves, some in a nice bookcase and a few open on his desk. Richard had the luxury of a nice leather chair in which he now settled and he gestured for Christian and Rachel to take a seat also. Looking out the window, Rachel admired the tasteful view for here was the quadrangle where students criss-crossed the grassy square on their silent way to classes. Blackbirds sang lustily somewhere in the background. This building was the old part of the university and the department offices had a Victorian solidity and calm, remote from the labs and lecture rooms which were in a new part of the campus a hundred yards away.
"So, you are thinking of accepting an offer for our department, can I fill you in on some of the things we do here?" Christian nodded while Rachel fixed her gaze on a student trailing a small dog across the grass and wondered where it went during classes.
"Actually, I have an offer but Rachel has just come along to see round," said Christian.
"Oh, I see," replied Richard. "Well, we have one of the best equipped departments in the country here, I am proud to say..." Richard's voice trailed off as Rachel rose and headed for the door. She paused.
"I'm sorry, I'll leave you two to discuss Geography. I'd like to visit the Union building." Rachel smiled and went out into the corridor.
Richard started back on his talk but was interrupted again by Christian.
"Actually, I know most of the details of studies here, I just came to ask Dr Dawson about the social side of things. They said he might help."
"Well, what is it you wanted to know?"
"I'm just interested in clubs where guys meet," Christian suggested.
"What, like sports clubs or something similar?" Richard asked.
"Well, something like that. Somewhere without girls," he said half in jest. "You see I went to a Grammar School for boys. I think I am set in my ways early. But if there is nothing suitable it doesn't matter." He looked uncomfortable and thought he better change the subject. "Where is the nearest toilet, please," he asked.
Richard sat down to ponder his own situation after he had shown Christian the directions. He too had attended an all-boys Grammar School and wondered if it had been responsible for his present difficulties. Since turning thirty-nine he had lived in a flat on his own and it was no exaggeration to call it a sort of bachelor pad. His wife Norma had grown increasingly restive after he rose to the dizzy heights of his present post after serving as a humble lecturer for fifteen years. He became preoccupied with work and used to spend evenings in his office working with research students or preparing new courses on climate change. It seemed like women were ruling the roost now that there was also a woman installed in 10 Downing Street. Who knew what the effects of the events of last year's election would have on the future, he would ponder? He wondered if he should be glad that he was able to escape.
Now he was on his own. His wife had left with their eighteen-year-old son Michael, proclaiming that she couldn't share Richard with the department. Good luck to her, he thought. She had a good job in University Administration and could look after herself. He gazed fondly out at the leafy quadrangle and thought that he would never change. Norma was really his type but, in the end, they had become strangers and, he supposed, she was upset that the circumstances would affect Michael. Thankfully his son was now fairly grown-up and understood what was happening in the home. He was a clever boy and would soon be able to cope. He would go to university like his parents.
As for Norma, intuition told him they might remain friends. She had made sure they shared parental roles with their son and the home had been, if not a loving place latterly, at least a briskly efficient place. He missed their late-night chats and comfy academic lifestyle.
Sitting in his rather crumpled cord jacket, he looked every part the academic. He still had youthful vigour but was more given to reflection, pondering the past. His hair was receding but joyfully not too much so that the wispy bits at the front and the tinge of silver gave him an air of studied intelligence. He had fought the flab manfully and largely won due to visits to the pool and would have been proud to display his naked body, should anybody but himself have had a desire to view it. He had decided not to grow facial hair since his rather hirsute complexion and good diet had retained a rather smooth skin and he had taken to shaving at bedtime in order to enhance his facial features and give him a carefree, youthful look during the day.
All in all, he enjoyed his new-found freedom and on his better days he imagined himself one with the large body of students in the University. They sought adventure as well as academic studies and he tried to remember how he had sort of missed that joy the first time round. One day perhaps he would make professor but he did not want to miss this opportunity to `find himself' again. Wasn't that the new mood on campuses in America and now Britain: understand who I really am and get in touch with my inner child?
In all honesty it wouldn't have been difficult to get to the roots of Richard's inner child. In addition to all these normal features he had ears which tended to the broad side. They stuck out in effect. Not that they were large but it was difficult to miss them and not difficult to imagine Richard growing up as a child – easily embarrassed and so blushing frequently, given to smiling by way of diversion from both the above traits together with a certain nervous energy that propelled him through life.
His thoughts were interrupted by the return of Christian. In a flight of madness, Richard decided to drop his guard and probe into his background. Christian watched as Richard walked round to his side of the desk and pulled up a chair close beside him. To his relief, he noticed that Richard had neither a reek of man perfume nor anything else. But up close, he focused on his eyes and felt he could see in the wet, brown pools something like apprehension or vulnerability.
"I always think that is an intriguing name...Christian," Richard pondered. "It seems to suggest more than just a random choice in your family. It has more meaning than just Thomas or James..."
"Or even Richard," Christian offered.
"Yes, or Richard." He smiled. "It has the connotation of religion in it and I am never sure whether to pronounce the accent on the first syllable, making it seem like a title."
He seemed flattered by the interest and gave a smile. "Well, you are correct actually. My father is Norwegian and gave me the name. We accent the second syllable. It sounds so much better that way."
The comment hung in the air with the two of them looking at each other. Then Richard snapped out of the mood and resumed his conversation about the university.
"Would you like a coffee?" Richard enquired as he headed for the back of the room and his little coffee station. Christian did not look round but stared straight ahead and spoke to the front as if Richard was still there.
"Ok, if you are having one," he replied quietly and reluctantly.
"You see, you do not look Norwegian, if I might suggest. Actually, how many do you see with red hair?" Richard asked.
"My hair is not red. I would call it strawberry blond actually. And I got it from my mother, she is the same." He felt embarrassed now and gulped down the coffee offered to him. "I am not sure if I will take up the Universities' offer, I think the city is too expensive. I also have an offer from Pitloch University," he said.
"Yes, that is well worth considering, it is a very nice place and, as you say, probably cheaper than here. But remember, although it is new and very attractive, we have a much better reputation."
"Oh, yes, I like your university, I am still considering it. The reason I like Pitloch is personal. When I was younger, I used to spend vacations with my father in Norway. His family have a summer house in the mountains near Bergen. It is difficult to appreciate the beauty of the fjords from pictures. A picture only captures a small area. The peace and the majesty are amazing. Looking at the whole vista there is mind-blowing. So that is one reason why I thought about Pitloch University – it reminds me of the country and peace and quiet." Christian looked at Richard with a questioning gaze.
Richard nodded in agreement.
"I understand. I paint. Trying to capture a scene is difficult. In fact, I gave up trying a year or two ago. Now I do more abstract work. It feels more creative rather than trying to copy something that is already there. It stimulates the imagination more to find something new." Christian merely gave one of his smiles. He seemed to have a malleable face that could express a dozen emotions through his expression and this one seemed to penetrate to the centre of Richard's feelings. Richard felt that he was losing his grip on the interview.
He remembered his latest acquisition. He had a stack of new calling cards that he had had freshly printed. He offered one to Christian.
"You will let me know how you get on?"
Christian took the card and looked at it. "Sure, I will. Yes, I am sure I will," he said, as he picked up his rucksack and made a point of facing Richard, shaking his hand and giving him a warm smile as he left.
When Richard got home to his flat, he felt stimulated to draw. The apartment had a nice box room that he studiously kept clear of anything that reminded him of work. This was his hobby room, his den. His lounge had a nice patio where he gazed onto a couple of sycamore trees but the den was enclosed by four walls – no distractions and it was fine for him.
Finishing a charcoal sketch in an idle way he placed it on an easel and stood back to assess the figure he had decided to draw. He knew he was getting good at faces but he realised with horror that in a sort of mindless way he recognised the face of the young man staring out at him from the drawing pad.
Chapter 2
As autumn turned to early winter, Pitloch University was even more beautiful than usual. Colours that blazed in summer - the white wash of the student flats set against the green of the hills and the blue lake in the foreground - were softened. Added to these were the sea of yellows and reds as the trees succumbed to the early frosts and started to lose their leaves.
Christian sat on a bench beside the lake, looking out over the small boats gently sailing through the water. He reflected on his first month at university. It had been very eventful. The decision to come here had not been that difficult and he had quickly grown to love the place. The university was one of the newest in Britain and would even have looked pristine if there had only been the buildings. But it was much, much more. The backdrop to the campus was framed by the Bowden Hills, gentle green pastures that rose behind the lake in waves of green mounds to a height of about a thousand feet. The campus itself was fairly undulating and the low buildings seemed to be part of the landscape they hugged.
The buildings, less than ten years old, still had a smell of newness - not the polished use of years but a fresh smell of pine and wood flooring. There was an air of casual informality around as if the students and staff were still discovering their role and the possibilities of the new university. As Christian pondered his future, his friend Martin appeared along the path and greeted him with a cautious smile. He was a second-year student living in the same block of flats and had been very helpful, easing his journey into a new life and combating the difficulties of living away from home and friends. Rather than question him he merely sat next to Christian and gazed out over the lake to try and drink in the same atmosphere that he was feeling.
"It looks lovely, doesn't it?" said Christian.
Martin brushed his fringe of hair back over his forehead that had been ruffled by the gentle breeze.
"I guess so." He looked back at Christian enquiringly. "So, tell me how your visit to the GBLT club went. Did you meet someone?" he asked.
"Yes...and he invited me back to his room," Christian replied.
Martin, never the emotional sort, thought about the implications of this before trying to find out more. He was an inch shorter than Christian and the small difference in height reflected their builds. Christian was on the lanky side whereas Martin was built like an athlete, but the discus or javelin thrower, not the distance runner or even weightlifter type. He had jet black hair that seemed to flow down from the top of his head and ended in a neat fringe on his forehead. At the front of his brow the fringe stopped an inch above his eyebrows. His expression was always impassive and any gesture of empathy or hostility was revealed by a movement of his body – a twitch of the hands or a shrug of the shoulders that showed the strength and latent energy of his lightly muscled body. Despite this he exuded an aura of gentleness bordering on reticence, as if every action was judged against a desire always to be calm. After a pause, hoping Christian would continue he turned to him and asked him to elaborate.
Christian stared out over the view and gathered his thoughts.
"To be honest, it wasn't as exciting as I'd hoped. The gay and lesbian society doesn't attract the person it should, that's why. For the simple reason they are too inhibited about showing their faces. I just went along with trepidation, not being sure who would be there. There was a girl, Angela, who was in charge and introduced us to some interesting places in the town that are gay-friendly. Most of the students were the bohemian, liberated sort – the guys with long hair and alternative morals and a few overgrown boys that I am sure nobody was attracted to but just sort of drifted in. There were no hunky Adonises, that's for sure.
"But half-way through the meeting this guy came and talked to me. He had long hair and a pale face. He was about my height. You would have called him a nerd, except he looked me right in the eye and gave me a warm smile and started to question me gently. I knew instantly what he meant by it. So, there wasn't any talk about coming out angst or political views, we were just straight into chatting each other up. To my surprise I started to feel aroused."
Martin looked at Christian and folded his arms round his legs in anticipation of more juicy description.
"No, it was really nice. But there weren't any snatched kisses in dark doorways or anything, he just asked me back to his room. I had supper and afterwards I went and knocked on his door. I couldn't have gone with him in public there and then, I would have felt guilty, as if everyone would be watching us and know exactly what we were up to.
"What a fumbly mess it was after all. I wish I could say we had great sex and promised to meet every day from then on. But that was probably my fault. I just wasn't ready and didn't know what to expect."
"`Fumbly'... that's a new word," said Martin. He pondered. "But you are perfectly normal. That's often what happens first time, I think. You have to kiss a few frogs first, isn't that what they say?"
Christian agreed.
"But there is some good from this. I have been thinking about my future and my studies. I feel more grown-up now; more adult and I have wondered if I am really doing the right course. I looked at some of the people in the club and they looked like the people I knew at school. You know the ones, the guys that played around on skateboards for a year or two longer than they really should. The ones who are more interested in material things than being human. I want to be different. That's why I am thinking about changing from Sciences to Philosophy."
"Philosophy?" Martin echoed in astonishment. "But you've only just started in Science."
"I know, but it interests me. It's a bigger world than the study of matter. We are unique, Martin, in the entire universe. Who knows what chance or hand of god has brought us here? I want to at least try and find out. Maybe I will switch next year."
"You've not got religion, have you? This fellow didn't slip a few tracts into your rucksack after he," Martin thought he would soften his language, "... had sex?"
Christian looked at him in frustration.
"Of course not," he replied.
They parted at that and agreed to meet the next day. But Martin decided to do some research into the person he thought Christian had met. Asking around discreetly, he got hints that this guy had a poor reputation in the college. He too was a second-year student, Martin found, and according to his friends, he would sleep around pretty freely. Someone also suggested that he had lesions or wounds on his hand that suggested some sort of sexual disease.
The next day Martin and Christian met in a quiet café away from the bustle of the lecture rooms and concourses. They chatted amiably about their friends and studying. Martin thought he would work towards the problem of Christian's relationship as subtly as he could. There was more chatter about his decision to change to a new subject. In the end, Martin steered the conversation round to the research he had done. He explained all this to his friend and he was stunned.
"What am I going to do? I can't go and ask him. If what you are saying is true then I don't want to go and see him again."
"What actually happened? Did you let him have anal sex?" Martin asked.
"No, of course I didn't." Christian felt some embarrassment and dropped his voice to a whisper in case anyone should hear.
"I am sure it is probably a minor problem," said Martin. "But if you are unsure, I would go to the clinic in the college and get some tests done. That's the only way."
Martin rubbed Christian on the shoulder gently and tried to calm him down.
"Can you remember if you saw anything like that?" he asked.
"I..., I can't remember...honestly. I wasn't looking at his hands." Christian turned to Martin in exasperation but he didn't laugh.
Next day Christian went to the clinic and they did all the tests. When the results came back, they showed no abnormalities. Christian was relieved. But he felt upset and in a quandary over what to do now. Should he go back to the club? He distinctly wanted to enjoy his time at university but at the back of his mind he thought that the club was not for him. That thought led him to feel antipathy towards the people there – not Martin for he was trying to help.
When he got back to his room, he settled himself with a relaxing meditation exercise. Sitting with a coffee he glanced over at his desk and noticed the card that Richard had given him. In a moment of exasperation, he picked it up and dialled.
"Hello, Richard here, what can I do for you?"
Christian paused, not expecting a reply that was detached and business-like.
"It's Christian from the Open Day," he replied.
There was a pause and Christian's heart began to sink, not sure what the reaction would be.
"Yes, I've been thinking about you, how are you?"
Christian flopped down into his chair and blurted out with a sense of immense relief at the familiar voice.
"Can I see you for a chat?" he asked.
"Well, ok. Is there something wrong?"
Christian had decided on a strategy for persuasion but hoped he wouldn't have to use it.
"No, I'm just unsure about the decisions I have made here, I wonder if I could have your advice," he suggested.
Richard pondered an answer, weighing up all the risks and benefits of meeting this young man to try and help. He settled on taking a bit of a chance.
"Ok, let's meet for coffee somewhere. How about Dunblair? It's halfway between the two universities and it's quiet. Do you know the Coffee Cup? It's nice and friendly and staffed by students. We can talk there."
Christian didn't hesitate.
"That's great. I will phone back and let you know when I can meet."
They rang off and Christian slept that night very well, even with the hint of an involuntary smile on his face.
Chapter 3
The Coffee Cup was suitably quiet on a Tuesday morning. Due to the easier schedules after the term exams, Richard was able to absent himself from the University and travel the twenty miles here. He had taken the opportunity to phone Michael and arrange to see him at the same time as Christian would appear. Michael had decided to take a year out before starting university. He was working at a forestry station near here for which Richard was grateful, not having to worry about him backpacking in some remote and dangerous corner of the world.
"What are you planning to do when your year is up?" Richard ventured.
He sipped slowly at the cappuccino that was so creamy and strong here, even better than the fancy chain coffee houses that were found in towns and looked at Michael with as much humble interest as he could muster.
"I think I might study Biology at Pitloch," he replied.
"That's a coincidence," said Richard. "The student I am here to meet is there at the moment. Why don't we ask him if he will show you round the campus when you have a day off?"
Richard paused and then felt he may have jumped in at the deep end. He wasn't even sure that he should be meeting Christian here in the first place.
When Christian appeared, Richard introduced them and managed to organise a suitable time for Michael to visit the campus. After swapping phone numbers, Michael went off back to work leaving Christian nervously playing with the cup in front of him.
"So, what was it you wanted to talk about?" Richard asked.
Christian paused and wondered if this was pretended innocence, not trusting anyone at the moment to tell him the truth, apart from perhaps his friend Martin.
"I just wanted your advice on changing my course next year. What do you think?"
He described all the thoughts he had about staying at Pitloch, except his encounter with the guy in the flat and listened to Richard as he gave some interesting but at times vague advice. Richard, hesitated to tell Christian what to do in case blame should come to his door later. Moreover, the universities had more than adequate counselling services for students and he put this to Christian. He looked disappointed with the way things were going and when the conversation flagged, he decided to change the subject.
"What exactly do you draw when you are closeted away in your den?" He asked.
"I think I said, didn't I? I do more abstract pictures, something after Picasso now."
Christian felt as if he was being brushed off.
"Could you draw me?" Christian asked.
Richard hesitated. In the moment between saying no' and the realisation that he couldn't in all honesty say that because he had already drawn him in a leisure moment, Christian seemed to pick up the pause as an acknowledgment that he could. It only remained, in his mind, to change that could' into `would'.
"It's easy, ten minutes and its done, just to prove that you can. I'm not looking for a masterpiece and then it's over. I bet you could do that well if you draw quickly."
Richard looked at him with the combination of a sneer and a grudging assent.
Seven in the evening and Richard opened the door to his erstwhile pupil. He had reconciled himself to this task and had prepared his latest coffee machine for a delicious cappuccino and set up his canvas, working in his favourite pastels, he planned. After a coffee and a little chat, he pointed to the chair he had set up in front of his materials. Leaving Christian to settle himself, he started to lay out a varied collection of colours in front of him.
Looking up, he saw that Christian had removed his jacket and t-shirt, was topless, revealing a pale, glowing skin. If he had not been as tall, you would have described his tummy as a six-pack but in his thinness, it all merged into a long, smooth oneness with his chest and the merest suggestion of ribs showing through under his lithe torso. But the whole was deliciously and suggestively set off with the slight hint of the shadow of man boobs giving shape to his chest and pointing up the position of his nipples. Both were set high up on his chest but his nipples were so beguiling. They were set quite far apart and with his reddish complexion they looked very light and large. They were very soft and rather than the roughness of manhood they suggested the innocence of youth.
Christian was starting to unbelt his trousers.
"What are you doing?" Richard demanded.
Christian paused.
"You are going to draw me," he replied. "You are not telling me that you are going to do a tame, little portrait. Haven't you ever seen a drawing class with the human body?" he asked.
Again, Richard hesitated. He felt cornered and a bit cheated. Of course, he had tried this once in his drawing class and could not say no. He looked again at Christian. This was perhaps the mistake of the evening. He felt a curious warm feeling in his groin. His pants felt tight today. Had he mistakenly put on an old pair from his student days? Surely not, but he had to do a quick movement of his legs to free the logjam of flesh that was starting to press insistently on his trousers. Christian's elastic band on his underpants hung there a good distance down from his pert, little belly button. In fact, Richard wondered how the whole actually stayed up as his jeans had hung an inch or so below that on his thin hips. Realising he had to do something he had to make an instant decision. He wanted to be seen as a man of the world and not a wimp.
"Sure, I have," he said. "That's ok, you just took me by surprise."
Christian unbuckled his belt slowly and his trousers dropped off and were flung ceremoniously as far away in the room as he could throw them. As he fixed a meaningful look at Richard, his pants were teased down from the legs and his cock sprung out from its prison as they were released from the pressure of his belt.
Richard stared entranced. Christian's whole body reflected the light from a spotlight that was now strategically sitting near his left shoulder and throwing into relief all the gentle curves in Christian's body. His skin had the paleness of a guy with a fair, ginger complexion. All except his groin, that is, where a substantial knot of deep crimson hair curled voluptuously round his cock and drifted down in wispy tendrils over his testicles that seemed hard but gripped tightly against his legs. But it wasn't the thinness and length of this tall guy's cock that drew Richard's attention but the fact that in strong contrast to his pale body, the whole assemblage of cock, hair and testicles seemed to be fashioned out of a skin that was much, much darker than the rest of his body. How was this possible, he wondered? He tried to focus closer and figured the whole thing was a sort of beige-brown colour – yes, light brown, but the whole groin had a shadowy look from the combination of red hair and dark-skinned cock.
Suddenly realising that he was staring, he noticed that Christian had now sat down on the chair. He tried to relax and focus on the task of composition. The crayon was poised over the canvas and again there was a difficult decision, he thought. He was bringing his artist's eye to bear. In a moment of realisation, he knew that there was a much better pose for this drawing. He pulled the small sofa sitting against the wall under his window across the room next to Christian's chair and asked him to sit on it.
"Which way?" Christian asked. "Show me," he said.
Richard got up again and, figuring the best pose, he went towards Christian and the sofa and sort of gestured his idea.
"like this," he said, gesturing the rough position. Christian didn't move. In frustration he grabbed his leg and moved it into the place he wanted. Christian's leg was perched up on the sofa and his other leg rested on the floor. At the same time, the change in position had an effect on the rest of his body. Gravity had its way and at the same time as Christian's cock started to swell imperceptibly into a fattening slug, it fell down over his other leg.
At the same time as Richard gave a resigned sigh, Christian, who was breathingly close, reached out and put his hand on the swelling package in Richard's groin.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Christian asked gently.
Richard sighed again and resumed his seat, trying to remain calm as he began to draw.
...to be continued
This is my first story in Nifty. All (constructive) crits welcome at
staropramen@gmail.com