Tristan

Tristan by Henry H. Hilliard

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Chapter 42

In the dusty firmament of space-time created by the Big Bang (or, if one is a member of the Pine Ridge Family Church and Spiritual Wellness Temple, called into being by an act Jehovah's will) can be found an otherwise obscure galaxy called The Milky Way in whose more fashionable reaches is situate our own solar system that Galileo quite persistently asserted revolves rather monotonously around its unremarkable, middle-aged star. It is widely known that the third planet is our own vouchsafed Earth upon whose firmer portions, at this particular time in geomorphic history, can be located the continent of North America. A further examination would disclose the United States, whose human inhabitants suspect was called into being by equally divine forces, and within that entity is the fairly sizable territory called Texas, wrested, as it was, first from its original inhabitants and then from the Spanish conquerors, and whose citizens are sure that this supposition is fully justified. In the Republic of Texas can be found a certain college town that, like Topsy, `just grewed' upon the flat and shallow valley of the Brazos River as the result of certain political and economic imperatives that are too tedious to recount. In that town, not far from the University, is a house occupied by college students and in that house and at this moment is, reposing on an empty pizza box, the ripe and sightly unhygienic jockstrap belonging to that well known football quarterback and babe magnet, the twenty year-old Colton Stone.

"This pair or these?" Colton asked, holding up competing underwear.

"None at all?" suggested Tristan.

"Brilliant!" said Colton and struggled into his best pair of Wranglers, which were tighter than a Baptist minister's wife's girdle at an all you can eat pancake breakfast.

"How do I look?"

"Hot," said Tristan

"Come on, Stone!" called Hollis from the top of the stairs that led up to the loft bedroom.

"Just gotta do m'teeth."

Tristan knew that this would take ten minutes so he went to talk to the wide receiver.

"How do you think it will go, Holly?"

"Don't rightly know. Never been on a double date with Colt before and not with two older babes."

Hollis was referring to the two new interns in the Football Department who were both 23 years of age and graduates of Northern Arizona University. They were blonde and brunette apiece and appeared very shapely and dangerously fit in their sports gear, as Tristan had seen from their pictures. By general agreement, Hollis was to have the blonde one with the bigger bust whereas Colton was to have the one with the long straight hair and the more attractive visage.

"It's just pizza and coffee," continued Hollis. "We gotta keep it low key."

"Why's that?"

"I don't think the authorities would like students to be datin' staff, even if they is just girls gettin' experience."

"`Getting experience', is a good way of putting it!"

"Yeah. They'll be getting plen'y; the Colt experience, that is, an' I'll have t'try and not look too shabby."

"But you won't get into trouble? I mean they wouldn't kick you off the team for having coffee and pizza with two interns."

"Don't rightly know. Maybe not. Colt says that it makes it more excitin'."

"He's real mature," said Tristan sarcastically.

At that moment Colton appeared fully dressed and smelling of Truefitt & Hill aftershave and clattered down the wooden stairs with Hollis.

The scent lingered in the loft and Tristan was left pondering what it all meant as he picked up the jockstrap and treated himself to a sniff. He had actually encouraged Colton in his pursuit of the interns and had maturely and unselfishly decided (he told himself) that Colton should follow his heterosexual instincts and give way to their impulses; in fact he was fundamentally attracted to Colton because he was straight and rather thrilled at the sight of Colton putting himself out there to attract the fairer sex; he would not find Colton so attractive if he were gay. There was the obvious difficulty that this raised, of course, but it also meant that Colton was back to his old self, following the traumatic events that had rather dampened Colton's enthusiasm for dating over the summer.

He was in his own bed when Colton returned home. Tristan had spent a good night in HMS Beagle and for dinner had eaten pasta with shrimps (or `shrimp' as it was expressed locally) cooked by Rachel and Deshawn and the household had then sat outside before watching a thriller on Netflix.

Colton was bouncing with enthusiasm--as Tristan had seen often before. He pulled off his polo top and cast it aside and then struggled to peel the Wranglers off his gym-toned legs. At one point he hopped about the room before falling onto Tristan's bed.

"Sorry Tris, did I wake you?"

"No," replied Tristan. "How was your night?"

"Real good. They're nice girls--funny and can talk sport. How many chicks know about what really happened to Myles Garratt?"

"And?"

"And nothin'. We had pizza. I drank only mineral water--no sugar. Kellie and I had a little bit of a kiss n'cuddle."

"And Holly?"

"That boy needs some learnin'. He told jokes that were jus' embarrassin'--but he thought they were real funny. His lines just weren't smooth."

"So Addison didn't respond?"

"No, not at all. They got on great."

"Well, he's a sexy dude as well as having a sense of humour. Remember what Brady taught you?"

"You mean to make babes laugh?"

"Yeah."

"But, he went about it all wrong!" Colton complained as lay back next to Tristan with his hands clasped behind his head, staring up into the rafters.

"But it worked," laughed Tristan

"Guess so," he muttered. "No accountin' for some chicks..."

"Well, what happens next?"

"Well," said Colton turning to face Tristan and propped up on one elbow. "I asked Kellie for Sunday. Don't know if Holly asked Addison."

"Good move," said Tristan.

`Sunday' was to be a barbecue at HMS Beagle. Rabbi Hirsch and some of the students had been invited as well as Ben and Ivy, the Macphersons, and, with some reluctance, Professor Troost--the Professor of Architecture. In addition Colton's parents were coming up and Leesha and Parker's parents were coming down.

"Yeah, but it's goin' to be a might crowded, Tris..."

Tristan knew where this was going. "Yeah?"

"Well, I'm sure to get lucky with Kellie an' if you say that chicks dig Holly, he might just pull it off with Addison--if she's sufficiently impaired with liquor."

"And?"

"Would you an' Holly swap beds? Mom an' Dad will be in the maid's room, Leesha's folks will be upstairs and Park's parents will be on a blow up in the basement."

"Sure, sleeping with Parker's no hardship."

"Sleeping in Parker's room, y'slut."

"That's what I meant. I wonder if it will be a night he sleeps in a jockstrap?"

"You will be in your shorts."

"So, you're giving orders now?"

"No, course not! Just didn't want you to spook a straight lacrosse dude by shakin' a stick in his direction."

"Well, perhaps you should put some shorts on and sleep in your own bed," said Tristan, far from seriously.

"Well, I'm a might worked up an' your pouty lips would feel mighty fine around my piece--if y'open wide that is."

"They're not pouty!"

Sunday was the day before the week that was the official start of term, but all at HMS Beagle were busy preparing for the barbecue rather than getting ready for classes. In fact Rachel and Leesha kept referring to the enormous workload that they would be labouring under by taking Psychology rather than Cheer Studies 101, which had obtained in their freshman year.

Parker's parents arrived, having driven all the way from Rome, Georgia. The Bryces were a conservative, middle-class couple. Parker's attractive dark looks came from his mother, Tristan decided, and she made it clear that their family was an important one in their home city. Parker was out showing them around the college while Tristan and Alexinia were busy preparing the empty basement room for their overnight stay.

Then came Leesha's parents from Dallas in an expensive BMW SUV. They were clearly richer than Parker's family, but less socially conscious. They were both lawyers, although Leesha's mother had not practiced for some years. They enjoyed a joke and unhesitatingly took a glass of wine, although it was not long after noon.

In the maid's room, Clarice was changing the bed and cleaning parts that Tristan had shamefully neglected. She was upbeat. "I love the house, Tristan," she said as she shook a pillow into its slip. "You've done a wonderful job with this old place--it really should be in a magazine."

"Well, you can congratulate the architects tonight as they're coming with their professor."

"And Colton's bringing a girlfriend?"

"A girl whom he hopes will be a girlfriend, yeah. He hasn't had so many girls recently," adding Tristan, forgetting Newquay and possibly Big Bend and applying the loosest possible definition to the label `girlfriend'."

"I'm only his mother, but I think he needs to do a lot more growing up before he gets a serious girlfriend--and I don't just mean one night stands--don't think I don't know what goes on. Things--I mean girls--come too easy to him. He needs to develop adult relationships--you know `soul to soul'." She plumped the bed with a couple of forceful slaps. "There is no need for him to know that I've said these things, Tristan."

"My lips are sealed."

They exchanged guilty smiles.

Just outside in the kitchen, Leesha's mother was emptying a large box that contained unwanted goods from her own home. "This is very generous of you Elizabeth," said Tristan handling a stick blender and wondering how it could be used.

"Bless you, Tristan," she said with a saucepan in each hand. "I think what you are doing here is fantastic. Leesha is so happy and is taking a real interest in her studies now. Did you know she's taking Psychology and Contemporary Gender Studies this year?"

"Yeah."

"And, well, it's given me an excuse to remodel our kitchen and enlarge the butler's pantry."

"You have a butler?"

"Oh no, sweetheart, just Mrs Morales. It is a room behind the big kitchen where the messy things are done."

"Oh," said Tristan wondering about the logic of this, but once again marvelling at how things just seemed to provide themselves when setting up a home.

In the front yard were assorted males throwing a football. Tristan sat on his porch swing and watched them with a proprietorial air. Then it was time to prepare for the barbecue and it was all shoulders to the wheel and when Rabbi Hirch and a bevy of students arrived bearing several cases of beer, the party officially began.

Rabbi Hirsch was in humorous form and pronounced the steaks, the chicken shasliks and Russian salad fit to eat. Parker's parents looked perplexed and Tristan realised that they probably didn't know any Jews. They also looked askance at the beer.

"Hullo, Tristan," said a voice.

Tristan turned from the Rabbi to one of the male students who had a girl with him. "Ahh! Amy!"

She gave a winsome smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," said Tristan in shock, for Amy was the stalking girlfriend who had threatened to kill herself. To cover his confusion he made a joke. "Charles C. Selecman has been condemned by the Health Department--bubonic plague, I think they said. Who's your friend?"

"Judah, this is Tristan; Tristan, this is Judah who is studying something at the Waxman Centre."

"Talmudic Studies," replied the good-looking boy, shaking hands.

"Wow! That must be interesting."

Before he got a chance to confirm or deny this fact, Amy said: "Do you still see Colton Stone?"

"Yes, of course, he lives here too. Colt and Hollis should be along soon. They're bringing some friends from the Sports Faculty."

"Interesting place you've got here, Tristan," said Judah accepting a beer from Tristan. Tristan offered one to Amy, but she shook her head. "I love the dinosaur out front. I see it wears a bra."

"Has some dick done that again?" laughed Tristan and then told something of Dino's history. Just then he saw Colton and Hollis enter the backyard with Kellie and Addison. He durst not betray that fact with his eyes and prattled on about the house and the milk float barbecue, but realised that she would find out eventually. He excused himself with the arrival of Professor Troost.

The respected academic in the Faculty of Architecture was not dressed as before, but was still be was an arresting sight. He was wearing a broad-brimmed white straw hat of unusual design and in place of the familiar tweed suit and cape he wore a sort of voluminous Hawaiian shirt made up of printed silk panels. "I had this made for parties, Herr Tristan," he said by way of explanation.

Tristan wondered if he was invited to many parties. "It a very distinctive design, Professor," remarked Tristan, diplomatically, as he stared at a design of white abstract shapes against a background of blue with recognizable cactus plants and palm trees.

"These are some of my own designs," remarked Troost and began pointing them out with the knob of his walking stick.

Indeed they were, and upon a second inspection Tristan could make out the architect's perspectives of a few severe-looking dwellings with a resemblance to sugar cubes--apparently none of which had actually been constructed, but about which several monographs had been published-- a sewerage pumping station in Tennessee that had been realized, and a dog kennel that had been designed for ____one of the wealthiest property developers in Texas. "That one was very well reviewed by the American Kennel Club--I will send you the clipping."

Tristan said that he was impressed and then introduced him with great ceremony to Colton's parents and escaped.

The late afternoon party slid effortlessly into the early September evening. The noise level rose as people chatted and laughed. There was music from the Bluetooth speaker hung from a hook on the porch. Colton and Hollis took charge of the grill and Tristan thought his job was to make sure there was beer and wine for everyone. He could hear some people playing ping-pong on the new table that Hollis had installed in the stable. Tristan suspected that this had been stolen from the College. Carlos organized a half court basketball match under the backyard ring that had been rescued from a suburban kerbside where it had been dumped--presumably because someone's kids had outgrown it. The ball kept escaping and knocking over glasses and landing among groups conversing, but it was all part of the atmosphere. There were people on the porch and the kitchen was busy, but Tristan was glad that no one sought the refuge of the television in the living room while it was still light outside. He then told himself that he worried too much.

It was some time later--when it was dark--that an unexpected incident occurred. Professor Troost, who had become noticeably drunker, was suddenly seen to be standing on the roof of the milk float, eerily illuminated from the light below. Tristan then saw that Parker's mother was flustered and the reason quickly became apparent.

"I want the whole world to know how wonderful you are," he declared dramatically. "The soul of a fellow Artist-- equal to myself--almost. You are great a Pianistin, Wanda!" he declared. "How I wept at your Die Shöene Müllerin."

"You have me confused with someone else, Professor! My name is Delores," Mrs Bryce shouted, red with embarrassment. He then declared that he loved her. "But I am a married woman," she wailed by way of objection and turned to her husband for confirmation. "Please get down; you will hurt yourself."

"He will not dare to keep us apart." Troost said threateningly, shaking his stick in the direction of Mr Bryce. "With you as meine help meet, I will create my greatest--more greatest--designs and once more you will play. How we will astound the world!" shouted Professor Troost, wildly looking about to all in the backyard who were now looking up. "You used to have flaming red hair, but I remember you! Klemperer introduced us at the Festival Hall and that night we made love--more than once! Deny me no longer! Ich dekläre meine Lieb für immer!" He waved his stick. " Ich werde dich am Klavier lieben!"

"What on earth does the man mean? I've never been there," she said feebly.

"Yes we have, honey," said her husband unhelpfully, "We saw Meow Meow in cabaret, remember? And you didn't like her."

"Shut up!" Then to Professor Troost: "You have me confused with Khatia Buniatishvili or someone. "Yes, I play, but I've never performed. We've never even met!" Professor Troost shouted out some more things in German and, overcome, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, still holding his stick.

"Parker! Tristan!" she appealed.

"I love you! I must gaze upon your Nackheit again! Ich muss dich als meine Frau haben!" he hissed.

"Please, Professor Troost," said Parker. "You are embarrassing my Mom."

"I must have her!" he declared, "She is a goddess and she posesses the most perfect triangle!"

Tristan gulped and choked with laughter, spitting out a quantity of white wine. Parker's mother looked confused and asked her husband what he had meant. Parker's father told her to take no notice.

Then Professor Troost changed tack and threatened to jump--although it was less than eight feet. Eventually he did jump and Colton and Deshawn caught him and carried him into the living room where he was laid out on the couch and covered with a blanket and promptly forgotten.

Eventually the party ended and Tristan found himself in Parker's bedroom. "I'm sorry about Troost and your mum," said Tristan as he took off his clothes.

"She was pretty upset, Tris, an' I don't think she'll be playin' the piano anytime soon."

"Well, he's obviously deluded and imagined your mum was someone else."

"Gotta say it was pretty funny."

"I wonder how Holly and Colt are doing with the girls."

"Y'all don't mind none?"

"No, of course not. Why should I mind?"

"Well, you and Colt, man..."

"Colt's straight," said Tristan patiently. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Got eyes, Tris."

"Well?"

"Well, I can see there's stuff between you two. I ain't gay, but I'm ain't blind neither. You know I ain't no homophobe."

"Yeah, I know that and I'm grateful you've never given me a hard time even though I'm always checking you out."

"Yeah, I know you do but you shouldn't even have to thank me for not doin' nothing'. I had this friend, see..."

"Yeah?"

"When I was at elementary school, this guy, Jarred, was just about m'best bud. Did everythin' together. At Junior High he came out--sure surprised me. I didn't treat him any different--I hope. We still went camping an' played sport--basketball an' baseball-- and hung out--you know. But his parents were religious nuts and some of the kids at school..."

"What happened?"

"Killed himself--with one of his daddy's guns. They said it was an accident, of course, but it weren't."

"Shit, Parks, that's terrible!"

"Yeah, well...you know...it was pretty fucked up--his parents an' all. So like I said, I don't hate gay guys. Not sure about m'folks though."

They were silent for a minute.

"Do you think they blame me for what happened with Troost?"

"Maybe, but they don't know you're gay."

There was a pause. "I've got two questions, Parks."

"Yeah?"

"Should I tell them tomorrow?"

"Fuck no. Let's keep things calm. They'll find out eventually. And?"

"Are we sleeping in our jocks tonight?"

"What?"

"Holly said...you know...sometimes you..."

"I ain't gay, I tol' you, but are y'all sayin' that you want to see me in the jock that I wear for important games?"

"Well, if it's not too much trouble and you'd look really hot."

"Holly said that?"

"No! He didn't say anything like that. He just let it slip that he sleeps in his jock and so do you."

"Well, he' a sick fuck. He didn't say nothin' else?"

"Oh no," lied Tristan airily, "We were just talking about jockey straps. What else is there to say?"

Parker snorted. He shed the rest of his clothes and hunted for his jockstrap, bending down low to reach into a pile of dirty clothes. "I can see your bum, Parks," said Tristan cheekily.

"Stop lookin'!" he said, but gave himself a hard slap on the right buttock for Tristan's entertainment. He found the jock and pulled it on with Tristan still watching. Then he turned around, completing the tucking-in process. "Do I look hot, gayfucktard?"

Parker was dark haired--it was black like a raven's wing. Tristan took in Parker's impressive chest with its attractive smattering of curly hair that extended south until it disappeared below the waistband. His muscular legs were akimbo and he stood with his hand defiantly on his hips.

"Nice bulge."

"Yeah," said Parker grinning. "I know I'm not as hung as Colt or De..."

"But you're still packing?"

"Well, yeah. Now get into bed--your own."

"But I haven't got a jock to wear."

Parker got out of bed and hunted around. "Here, this is one of Holly's." The fact that is seemed to be produced from under Parker's bed did not go unnoticed by Tristan. Parker threw it at Tristan's face.

Quickly Tristan put it on. "How do I look?"

"Don't look at dudes, dude. Get into bed and shut the fuck up!"

Tristan did and slid under the cool covers. He turned off the lamp. "Holly's right; it's `plum nice' sleeping with you in just our jocks."

"Shut up!" cried Parker in the dark, stifling his laughter. "I'm goin' to have t'put the beats on that mangy red-headed cowboy."

"How do you think he's getting on with Maddison?"

"Suppose him an' Colt is on the job right now."

"I think it would be quite a sight."

"Yeah."

"Holly has great low-hangers, hasn't he?"

"Shut the fuck up and go to sleep."

"But he does."

"Don't look at dudes' balls, but yeah like a bull's."

"Maddison might be chewing on them right now."

"Shut up, Tris, you'll get me hard."

"So?"

"So, Holly got me to shave those balls--you know, for his date with Maddison."

"I would have bought tickets to see that."

"Nothin' to see--just used the trimmer and then lathered him up and used a razor."

"Who was hard?"

"Hey, I ain't tellin' y'all nothin'! Holly's m'buddy."

"Should get him a ball stretcher for his birthday."

"You are sure one sick dude." There was a silence. "Where do you get them?"

"On-line. I'll show you tomorrow. You might have to fit it for him," added Tristan cheekily.

All of a sudden something hit Tristan in the face. It was Parker's jock. "Mmm!" said Tristan, giving it an exaggerated sniff.

"Sick!"

There was another thwack. Tristan had slid out of his (or rather Hollis' jock) and had flung it across the room, hitting Parker who was lying on his back. Tristan giggled.

"Now go to sleep, Tris! You've got me naked, but anymore shit an I'm going out to sleep with Professor Troost!"

"He might try and get on to you seeing y'mum turned him down."

"True that! Maybe safer here. But if you try anythin', I won't let you wash m'back in the shower tomorrow."

"Fair enough, straight boy," said Tristan turning over and smiling to himself and thinking that straight boys were such easy game.

The next morning there was no chance to wash Parker's back or the back of anyone else for that matter. The house seemed packed with people and the boys' and girls' bathrooms were quite crowed with students and parents. Professor Troost had resurrected and was seemingly unaffected by the night before and Tristan saw him explaining to Leesha's parents his views on the decline in American family values since the creation of the `family room'. Parker's mother passed him by icily and without comment.

Colton had already gone--he'd driven out with Kellie to McDonald's for a private breakfast. Addison was making pancakes in the kitchen for Hollis while Leesha and Rachel were also cooking. To Tristan's surprise Judah was by Rachel's side cautioning against bacon and without Amy anywhere in sight. Rachel gave Tristan a look that spoke volumes.

"Say goodbye to that boy of mine," said Clarice at last and in full knowledge of what had transpired the previous evening. "Are you all right with things, Tristan?"

"Yes, of course."

"It's just that I hope you are not feeling..." she couldn't finish.

"Oh no," Tristan lied brightly, "The girls of this university expect their quarterback to be ..." he couldn't finish either because he didn't know what they expected Colton to be--or not to be-- that being the question.

"Rich and I want you to look after him. I often think he's still only a fourteen year-old on the inside. Brady's the same."

"Better not tell him that; he thinks he's a leader among men."

"Well, we know otherwise," she said as she leaned down and kissed him.

Clarice was replaced by Rich Stone. "That youngest of mine..." he said in a tone of admiration as he shook hands with Tristan. He looked around and then spoke in a whisper. "If I was only twenty years younger." Tristan decided that all men were fourteen.

Eventually the visitors dispersed to their homes, Professor Troost wearing a tee-shirt belonging to Hollis' that read, `Texas boys like it straight up'.

"Well, how did last night go, Holly?" asked Tristan as Maddison's Honda disappeared down Baxter Drive.

"Great, Maddy's a great chick."

"And?"

"And she's a great fuck?"

"I mean with Colt and Kellie?"

"Why you so interested?" he teased.

"Shut up!" said Tristan, reddening. "Just fill me in."

"Them's Kellie's very words."

"Go on."

"Unbelievable. We could hear them up the other end going at it all fuckin' night. She's real noisy when she cums and she was screamin' and whimperin' the whole day'amn night. Reckon it was just one continuous orgasm for her."

"You've never seen Colt do a girl before?"

"Nope."

"I saw him in England. It was just like you said."

"Well, it sure put me on m'metal an' I tried to keep up, but he plum left me for dead. Maddy said today she'd have to either take her to the hospital or to the asylum."

"So you had a few laughs?" said Tristan, changing the subject slightly.

"Yeah. I think she likes me."

"But you can't be sure yet?"

"Ain't entirely sure she's all that inta me--mighta preferred t'be Colt's chick."

"If she isn't, she's got rocks in her head."

"Thanks, Tris. You're better'n any chick."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't rightly know," laughed Hollis and then rubbed Tristan's head as if he were a kid brother.

Colton returned in the late afternoon. "I came back 'cause we gotta cook, Tris. Then I've gotta meetin' at the Clinic."

"You seeing Kellie tonight?"

"No, preparin' for tomorrows classes. Ahh, Tris..."

"You want me to sleep with Parker again?"

"No--y'all sleepin' with me. You plugged?"

"No, I didn't think you'd want to fuck me."

"It's all I'm thinkin' 'bout--prac'ally. I want y'all cleaned out and opened up ex-pec-tant-ly for Colty."

"Oh. How was your night with Kellie?"

"Pretty hot. She's athletic and responsive in the sack when you treat her right."

"And you treated her right?"

"Always treat the ladies right, Tris." He grinned.

"And she's nice?"

"Yeah, real nice, like I said. Course I can't talk to her like I can to you. I gotta be the College Quarterback for her--not that I mind none, but she's mainly interested in sport management and animal welfare and she's a vegan of course."

"How did you know she's a vegan?" asked Tristan in horror, thinking of the barbecue.

"How do you know anyone's a vegan? They tell you."

"Oh," said Tristan sensing that this eschewing of the flesh might have been a deal breaker.

"Anyway, she gave me a couple of tips about supplements."

"Yeah? For fitness?"

"No for shooting bigger loads. Reckons lecithin is the good stuff."

"You don't need that; you already shoot a lot."

"Thanks Tris, that's what a guy loves to hear. Hey, did Holly or Maddy say anythang about us making a bit of noise last night--they were just in your bed behind the paper screen."

"You mean talking about sponsorship contracts and bean curd cutlets?"

"You know that ain't what I mean."

"Can't remember. You'd best ask him. You know he had Parker shave his nuts for this date?"

"Well, the boy needs some sorta edge. Hey, I hope you and Parker kept your hands off each other."

"We slept in our jocks--or rather I slept in Holly's, if that's what you're driving at. What's it to you?"

"Oh nothin'--just askin'."

Colton and Tristan cooked--a fish curry with rice. Colton followed the recipe carefully while Tristan had done the shopping and assembled the ingredients, including a dozen pieces of white fish. "We're a good team, Roomy," said Colton as he pounded the coriander seeds (whose leaves are called by their Spanish name, `cilantro', in America) and added the chilli and turmeric. "Gotta make it authentic," he observed.

There was left over wine and beer and they sat around the big table in the backyard performing an autopsy on the previous night's party.

"You know Troost has been elected to the College Senate," said Alexinia.

"But he's a loony!" cried Tristan, "Even if he is a laugh."

"Apparently he's a favourite of some big donor to the College."

"I bet he's the one that Troost designed the $20,000 dog kennel for," opined Tristan. "Hey Rache, seeing Judah again?"

"Maybe. He's pretty hot."

"You know we've got the basement room going spare."

"Don't know if I want him that close. Anyway he's living at the Waxman Centre," she said tossing her head in that direction.

"Anymore double-dating, Holly?" asked Carlos, as he threw the cowboy another beer.

"Maybe." He looked at Colton shyly.

Leehsa and Tristan started to clear away--the `Texasware' plates could be washed up easily in the milk wagon. "Have you pulled a muscle, Tris?" she asked.

"No."

"Well, you're walking funny."

"Oh, I just hurt my foot," lied Tristan who had a very large butt plug up his arse and was feeling very sexy."

"Well, you sit down; I'll do this."

"No, it's better if I don't sit," said Tristan truthfully for once.

At last Tristan and Colton were alone and in bed--Colton's bed. "Changed the sheets, you know--after last night n'all. Had to chuck 'em away. I'll get some more from Target. Pay's started at the Clinic."

Tristan appreciated the effort.

Colton was busy on his phone while Tristan was idly playing with the footballer's flaccid cock. "You've got a really large piss slit," he observed as he handled Colton's piece.

"Skin me back"

Tristan did so and applied lube to his pinkie and attempted to penetrate Colton's urethra.

"Yeah, that feels good. Get right in there and make your quarterback hard."

"You quarterbacks are a lot of work. I wonder if ten-pin bowlers make such demands."

"Tongue now an' chew on m'foreskin."

They were simple requests in themselves and Tristan set to work.

Colton gasped. "No chick can do it like you do."

"Just sorry I don't have big hooters and can't multi-task," Tristan muttered.

Tristan was sampling the `quarterback cordial' that bubbled up like crude on the Clampett's farm. Colton stuck out his tongue and Tristan knew to feed him some. "Purt sweet," he said and then, brightly, "Right, display!" This command had Tristan crawl down the bed and face away but with his buttocks raised and his legs akimbo. He felt like the worst slut. "That plug feels good?" asked Colton admiring the basal end of the Tupolev Torpedo--a new rectal dilator they had ordered from a distributor in Eastern Europe.

"Yeah, making me feel really sexy but Leesha noticed I was walking like John Inman."

"Who?'

"Never mind."

Colton eased it out, using one hand as a leverage on Tristan's left buttock."

"Holy fuck!" cried Colton in admiration. Look at that fuckin' gape!. Keep it open for me an' I'll just slide right in. Lube?"

"Just a little. I want to feel you and a little pain is a turn on."

Colton prepared himself and positioned Tristan on his knees. "No, on my back, I want to look at you." Tristan was flipped over and Colton made to begin again. "When you penetrate me, kiss me," breathed Tristan. "Kiss me as if it were the last time."

"Hey! That's a quote. I go to the Film Society too, remember."

"All right," confessed Tristan in a more normal voice. "I'm a romantic, so shoot me."

Colton was not initially inclined to the romantic and rather roughly got Tristan to fellate him. "Love how y'all don't use your hands none," panted Colton, standing on the mattress, "And how y'all look up at me with them puppy dog eyes."

He withdrew with a slurp. Tristan's face was covered in spittle and throat slime. "Yeah?"

"I suppose y'all goin' to tell me you learnt it from some story."

"No, self-taught," gasped Tristan by way of confession, "And a lot of porn."

Colton then augered his tool, which had been resting limp all day inside a pair of plaid boxers in the tartan of the US Air Force Reserve Pipe Band, into Tristan's well-prepared bottom. True to his word, Colton kissed him at the vital moment and indeed the pain was very little worse than an episode of Fox News. "Open up for me, Tris,' breathed the quarterback. "I want to get in real deep."

Tristan wriggled and tried to angle his innards. His second sphincter was breached with a dull pain somewhere inside, but the feeling of intimacy and of connection, in both senses, with Colton washed over him like a warm tide. "This feels so nice," said Tristan, at a loss for words. "The kissing helps."

"Y'make me feel real good," said Colton who had the grace to hold himself still to allow Tristan's bowels to adjust. "And y'all so funny."

"Thanks," said Tristan and received an unexpected kiss. "I'm so glad you're not gay," he said with a mote of sarcasm.

"Well, I'm right pleased that you are and have a crush on the quarterback."

"Perhaps just a little one," said Tristan playing with Colton's rubbery nipples.

"Bet at School you used to watch all them seniors sweating and grunting on the training track from under the bleachers, thinkin', `Man, I'd sure like some of that jock beef'."

"We don't have bleachers--only stands and terraces and we don't play gridiron. I had to wait for college before I fell for a jock."

"But in all those stories..."

"Like Tommy Chucks Chess Club? Yeah, the nerdy kid falls for the quarterback."

"I know I'm gonna regret askin', but what happened?"

"The Cleveland Browns lost the Championship and Tommy and Biff informed on gay commies in the NFL to the House Un-American Activities Committee."

Colton was still still inside Tristan. "Y'get me off like no chick can."

"So why do you go for them?"

"Love the look of them--the sexy ones that is--or even ones that might not seem sexy at first but I can see they is really sexy underneath--know what I mean? Hidden fires."

"Like when the librarian takes off her round glasses and shakes her hair loose?"

"'xaclty. And I love the chase an' that moment when you know that you've bagged her an' she' putty in y'hands."

"Sound more like deer hunting season. Do you tag their ears?"

"No, Tris, it's a real buzz. Feel like a real man."

Tristan was lost in thought for a minute. "Colt, do you mind me getting off when you're fucking me?"

"Course not. What made you say that?"

"Well, I've learnt from some stories that guys like you would be put off by seeing my dick--I'd have to keep it covered or have it surgically removed--and they'd think it disrespectful if I--you know--jerk myself off instead of giving you my total attention.

"Then they're not guys like me."

"Do you want me to only have anal orgasms--you know--only cum without touching myself when you fuck me?"

"Do you want me too?"

"Might be hot if you made demands."

"Nah, I just want you to get off on gettin' me off--we've been all over this before."

"Good, because otherwise our story would have to go under `authoritarian'."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Never mind," said Tristan as he squeezed his rectum and Colton flexed his penis in return.

"Look, I'll make you cum, don't you worry none about that."

"Wasn't."

"And I think I'm gonna fuck you six ways from Sunday."

"I want you to use me remorselessly for your brutish pleasure."

"Nah, I gotta kiss you too. It helps."

"Okay."

Colton was as good as his word and was inventive and athletic in his choice of positions--some of which were entirely new to Tristan. In fact Tristan found himself being bent like a pretzel, riding Colton like a cowgirl--forward and reverse--face up and face down and even with Colton's penis bent backwards in a manner too difficult to describe and for which no helpful Polaroid pictures were taken. Tristan sucked Colton's hard-worked member on occasion and did not forget his balls (For who likes dry balls?) and was surprised when Colton feltched three loads from his arse and then kissed him. Tristan made a note to get a blood test.

Tristan came twice, once in an uncontrolled anal orgasm' of the sort in fiction and once via the agency of his own hand, which was just as nice. Colton got a second wind when they were in the shower and fucked him again and insisted Tristan get himself off for a third time--a record--and Tristan tried to obey Colton by using a soapy hand aided by Colton having two equally soapy digits shoved up his puffy and gaping rectum--or anal sphincter' to be more anatomically correct.

Tristan collapsed to the wooden floor and, when Colton had finished pissing on him, Tristan looked up and said, weakly, "Did I make the team, Coach?"

It seemed but a moment when Tristan was being shaken awake by Colton for their early morning run. Colton started out in little bitty shorts with a split in the sides and a tight tee-shirt, but he skinned the sweat-soaked shirt off half way and was now running bare-chested. Some early risers waved to the well-known sophomore as they traversed the paths in the College. They sprinted home for the last leg. Colton saw Mr Burridge's rolled up newspaper on his front lawn and took it to him and had a football conversation, aided by mime, with the elderly neighbour. Colton was a well-loved figure, Tristan decided, and probably always had been, even in his hometown.

The denizens of HMS Beagle went their separate ways on the fist real day of classes. Tristan was pleased with Dr Kalous's Literature class and Brian Merrick's Economic History, suggested by Iain, seemed meatier than `Ideal of Freedom' which was apparently a notorious paean to the status quo as seen from the Capitol Hill Club.

Tristan was surprised to see Hollis and Colton back at the house by three-thirty when they would normally be at football training. "What's up?" asked Tristan who could sense trouble.

"Ah..." began Colton.

"It's to do with Kellie and Maddison, isn't it?"

"Yeah," said Hollis. "Coach ain't pleased. Said dating them was `inappropriate'."

"They've got no right!" snapped Colton angrily. "Ain't none of their fuckin' business what adults do in their own time."

"What did you say?"

"Told him that we went for pizza and coffee and then they came to a barbecue--with Dr Macpherson and Professor Troost, a College Senator."

"Yeah, we didn't mention the fuckin'," said Hollis unhelpfully.

"That ain't their business! I didn't tell 'bout that to protect the girls' reputations."

Tristan was unsure of that. "What did they say?"

"Not much," continued Hollis. "Just t'stop the fraternization or they might be asked to leave."

"But your positions?"

"Course they won't touch us," said Colton in almost disgust. "Football and this College!"

"Yeah, they pick on two girls who can hardly be blamed for wanting to date the hot quarterback and the wide receiver," said Hollis, grinning.

"Shut up, idiot!" said Colton. Tristan had never heard him so mad. Then: "Sorry, Holly, I know you were just trying to make me feel better. It's just so fucked up!"

"Colt, I think I know how the Sport Faculty found out about..."

"How? Did the girls shoot their mouths off?"

"No, you saw that Amy--from Calculus--was here with Judah."

"Yeah, gave her a wide berth."

"Well it's not impossible...and Rachael did steal her boyfriend."

"What do you mean?" asked Hollis, who knew nothing of Amy.

"She was a chick with troubles that I dated before Christmas."

"Troubles?"

"Don't want to talk about it, Holly. She didn't like it when I broke it off."

"I see. So this could be chick revenge?"

"Maybe, but I'm just sorry it affected three other innocent people."

"You were innocent too, Colt."

"Thanks, Tris. Don't know what I'd do without you."

Tristan felt pleased at the compliment.

Tristan and Colton were out for their morning run on the following weekend. The tree-lined curves of Baxter Drive were quiet and pleasantly cool. The summer heat of Central Texas had lingered into autumn and the trees were heavy with growth and had not yet started to turn.

They came to a house, which like all the others, was set in the middle of wide, unfenced lawn and was generally devoid of the flowers, shrubs and cement bird baths that constituted an English garden. A man was putting up a large Stars-and-Stripes on a painted flagpole. "Hi y'all!" he called.

"Howdy," replied Colton.

"Hello," said Trstan.

He seemed to want to talk so they paused, Tristan bending with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"What do you think?" said the homeowner, proudly.

"Looks very colourful against the white of your house," said Tristan, "You know, the red and the blue."

"Yeah, looks mighty fine," said Colton.

Tristan wondered if he was expected to salute.

"Put it up ever' year to commemorate Nine-Eleven."

"That's very nice," said Tristan, always uncomfortable when confronted with American patriotism. Then, "My dad lost a friend in the north tower-- Eric had been Dad's best man. Mum and Dad were pretty upset, but I was only a baby."

"That a fact?" said the man, not particularly interested. "Here, walk past the flag."

The boys were puzzled but did as asked. Suddenly there was a noise from speakers hidden in an oak tree and a spotlight came on. Proud to be an American... warbled the singer.

"Well!" said Tristan when the riff had ceased and he somewhat at a loss for words.

"That's real cool," said Colton.

The man looked and them neutrally and Tristan sized him up. He was young, perhaps in his middle thirties. Toys on the porch suggested that he had a family. His cap had the Gadsden flag on it and Tristan noticed that his license plates on his big truck displayed the same rattlesnake image.

"You must be very proud," said Tristan waving his arm, "to go to all this trouble."

"Sure am. Greatest state in the greatest country on God's earth."

"So I've heard," murmured Tristan.

"Sure is!" affirmed Colton.

"My family's been here in this US of A since nineteen hundred twenty four."

"That's a long time," lied Tristan and silently added the `and'.

"You're the British guy who's bought the old house down near William Taft."

"That's right. I'm a permanent resident now. We're students."

"Joe Lesko," said the man. "You're accent is real cute."

Colton introduced himself and gave Tristan's name.

"You're the new quarterback," he said to Colton who nodded. "Never played football myself; I'm a businessman," said Lesko, stepping forward to shake their hands. "Flip properties."

"What does that mean?" asked Tristan, deciding that he didn't like the man.

"Drive around Sunset, Waco, other places and look for rundown buildings, even crack houses. Buy 'em up cheap and send my team in to fix 'em up--you know, change the locks, new paint, fixin' the winders, paintin' over the crap tiles, sprayin' the roof maybe, and then sell 'em off. Sometimes split up a house into apartments. Young professionals, women on their own, nurses. That's flippin' and then I move on."

"You must work hard," said Colton for want of anything else.

"I work `smart'--course it can be dangerous, mind. Sometimes the tenants don't wanna leave and with the areas that I go into I have to be real careful." He opened the door of his truck and produced a revolver from the glove box. He hefted it in his hand. "Folks ain't 'llowed to have these in Britain," he said tauntingly to Tristan.

"We do have people who `flip' houses, but tenants have more rights."

He said nothing to this, perhaps dismissing the very idea that tenants had rights. "Looked at buyin' your place once, but decided against it. Maybe I was wrong."

"It did cost a lot to fix it up, but nine of us share now--nine students that is."

"You're friends with those Jews from the Waxman Centre."

Tristan was astounded that this should have been neighbourhood knowledge. "They came to a barbecue," said Tristan, more than annoyed. "Is that a problem in this part of America?"

"No, buddy, I expressed m'self badly. Those Jew kids are probably great guys, it's just what they teach 'em there. You've no idea what goes on."

"What do they teach them?" asked Colton, giving Tristan a chance to cool off.

"Zionism, world finance, socialism, politics, secret stuff. How to get control of all the levers."

"Bullshit! That's just not true!" said Tristan, not even bothering to take him apart. "And how do you know we're not Jewish?"

"But y'not, are you?"

"None of your business, arsehole!" cried Tristan before realising that this was a weak riposte. He started to jog away, fuming. Colton followed him, tripping the recording once again whose boastful lyrics drifted after them.

"Can you believe it?" said Tristan when they were home and pulling off their clothes for the shower. "I mean the hypocrisy of that douche! He forces people out of their homes and gun point so he can turn a profit and has the gall to criticise the Jews."

"He's just ignorant, Tris."

"That's what I hate about America. Sorry, Colt, but Americans are ignoramuses. They're racists and xenophobes and are too concerned with making money."

"Not all of us."

"Sorry, yeah, not all of you."

"Just in Texas?"

"No," laughed Tristan. "Not just in Texas, I'm sure."

Please look for the next chapter. Henry would love to receive feedback and will endeavour to reply. Please email h.h.hilliard@hotmail.com and put Tristan in the subject line.