The Low Road (23 page)

He was scrutinising my face for any sign of reaction; I gave him nothing.

Anyway, there is a guard outside the door who will report everything to Papa, so we'd better at least look as if we're learning something. Just keep your voice low and we'll be all right. I'll tell him what a marvellous teacher you are and we'll all be happy.'

He pulled the other chair up to the desk and we sat down together. I pulled a book off the pile in front of me - it was an edition of Aristophanes - and we
set about a charade of education. The guard would go away happy, and I would earn my keep. In fact, our conversation had little to do with learning.

‘Is it true that you're a priest?'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘I don't believe you. I think you're a spy. It's all right, I don't care. I hope you are. I hope you betray the lot of them.'

‘Indeed.'

‘I wish Father and Mother would just hurry up and die and let me get on with my life. I'm not interested in politics or money or anything really. I just want to enjoy my life. I like pleasure, Monsieur, that is all.' He stretched out his long arms and legs, then, as the guard peered through the peephole cut into the door's central panel, pretended to pore over our text. The peephole shut, and again he was sprawling in his chair.

‘If you were a priest, which I don't believe for one moment that you are, you could take confession, I suppose.'

‘Yes, sir.' I was on very shaky ground; posing as a priest was a very different matter from faking the sacraments.

‘Oh, I do so long to confess all my sins,' he said, putting his feet up on the desk (they were shod in very pretty dark-blue leather).

‘Perhaps we should concentrate on Aristophanes.'

‘To hell with Aristophanes! If I don't like you, Monsieur, I can tell my father that you refuse to teach me and you will be transferred to the dungeon. It's happened before. Is that what you want?'

He read my eyes; I had no desire to return to the misery of confinement.

‘I thought as much. Now we understand each other. So, where was I? Oh yes, I was going to tell you what a naughty, naughty boy I've been.'

‘How old are you, sir?'

‘Why do you ask?'

‘Simply out of curiosity.'

‘I am eighteen.'

‘I see.'

And you? How old are you,
mon professeur?'

‘Thirty-two.'

‘Mmm... Well now, let us get something straight. I have no desire to learn Latin, Greek or anything else from you. You have no desire to be stuck down in the prison. We can help each other out. You can spare me the boredom of an education, I can spare you further suffering. I would say that's a fair deal.'

And what shall we do in the meantime?'

‘I shall talk about the most interesting subject in the world: myself.'

‘Very well.'

And you will fall madly in love with me and want to be my slave forever.'

He looked teasingly at me from beneath his long eyelashes. I thought it best to say nothing.

‘My last tutor fell in love with me. That's why he was dismissed. That was a long time ago, over a year, and I haven't had a day's education since then, thank God. He bored me to death and so I had to think of a way of getting rid of him, so can you guess what I did?'

‘No, sir.' I could guess perfectly well.

‘I came up to his room one day - this very room - and while he was construing a Latin verb I took off all my clothes. And do you know what he did?'

‘No, sir.'

He got down on his knees and he put his mouth on my thing. Now, why do you imagine a man would do a thing like that to another man?'

‘I have no idea, sir.'

‘He didn't just kiss it, either. He put it in his mouth and moved it in and out until it went very big and hard.' Rather like my own cock was becoming - and Jonathan's own, as I could see quite clearly through the blue velvet knee-breeches.

‘Then he made me lie down on top of that desk,' he said, pointing with his foot and leaving his legs spread wide apart, ‘and he started to lick me down there.' He indicated his bum. ‘It felt so strange... Monsieur.'

‘Doubtless.'

‘Do you know what he did then?'

‘I can't begin to imagine, sir.'

‘He took off his clothes, and he stuck his great big prick right up my arse, just like those awful Greeks used to do, and he fucked me and fucked me until he came inside me.'

‘I see.'

And after that he fell madly in love with me and wanted me all the time. But do you know what?'

‘I imagine, sir, that you withheld your favours in order to drive the poor soul to despair.'

‘Exactly!' He laughed with delight. And it worked magnificently. So no more boring Greek and Latin for me, and soon after he was sent away and I never had to see him again.'

‘A most effective campaign.'

‘But do you know what the strangest thing of all is?'

‘What, pray?'

‘I really quite enjoyed it. And so I got one of the soldiers to do it to me, and that was even better, because he was a good-looking chap, though not as good looking as you, Monsieur...'

I said nothing.

‘But really rather handsome in a brutish English sort of way. And when I got bored with him I tried another, and another, and another. I've had all the soldiers in the garrison now, you know. They love my arse. They say it's better than fucking a woman. I wonder if that can be true. What do you think, Monsieur Lebecque?'

He was sitting there with his legs wide apart, his cock straining quite obscenely against his velvet-dad thigh.

I was spared the necessity of answering by another rattle at the peephole. Jonathan quickly moved his legs and pretended to be studying. His hand, however, was busy under the desk. When the peephole dropped back into position, he pushed the chair back and there, sticking out of his fly, was his erect prick, standing straight up in the air.

‘Look at that, Monsieur. See what you've done to me.'

‘I see, sir.' I had to clear my throat. I was blushing like a child.

‘Is yours like that as well?'

He could see perfectly well that I was as stiff as he was, but I was not about to show it to him.

‘I think, perhaps, the lesson is over.'

‘Don't say that, Monsieur. I'm not sure I've learned enough.'

‘That will do quite well for one day.' I got up and banged on the door. The guard was there in an instant; Jonathan hurriedly stuffed his cock back into his trousers.

‘Master Jonathan is not feeling well, guard,' I said. ‘He is asking to be taken down to his Mama.'

Master Jonathan shot daggers at me as he left the room. ‘Very foolish, Monsieur,' he whispered. I assumed that the guard would be pressed into service before they had descended the stairs.

Our ‘lessons' continued in this way for some time. On each occasion Jonathan tried to press himself on me; every time I managed to resist the temptation. Much as I despised this arrogant, selfish Englishman, I grew a little fond of him: he was stupid and depraved, but at least he was honest in his desires. I think he also respected me a little - at least, he didn't have me put into the dungeon, which he could easily have effected with a word to his father. And so we continued at our studies, he ‘confessing' his latest
sins, me listening in silence and trying not to succumb to temptation.

But of course I couldn't resist forever. I am only human. I held out for as long as I could, painfully aware that this student-teacher relationship was a gross parody of our friendship, Charlie. I felt that if I succumbed to the young man's blandishments I would somehow be betraying you. Ah well: my intentions were good.

One pleasant day at the end of February, when the sun was shining through the latticed window, Jonathan was recounting his latest adventure while I stared vacantly at a page of Ovid. He had lured three soldiers up into the attic the night before, he said, and had forced them all to fuck him twice. Whether these epic debauches actually took place, or whether they were concocted to arouse me, I never knew. Suddenly, in midstream, he stopped.

‘I need to use your thing.'

‘What?'

‘Your chamber pot.'

‘Oh. I see.' I extracted the pot from under the bed and handed it to him; he retired behind the screen. I went to the window and opened it, breathing in the fresh spring-like air. Two minutes passed, and he was still behind the screen. Another minute, and I called out to him.

Are you all right, sir?'

‘Yes, thank you, Monsieur.'

I returned to the window, but still he did not come.

‘Is everything in order, sir?'

‘Oh yes, Monsieur. I was just looking at one of your books.'

which one?' I knew I was being tricked; I allowed it to happen.

‘I can't read it. It's in Greek. Perhaps you could help me.'

I couldn't help myself; I walked heavily from the window, like a man in a trance, and stood by the screen.

‘Hand it to me, sir.'

‘Oh no. I think you'd better come and get it.'

‘Very well.' I stepped to one side and looked behind the screen. There, stark naked, was my student with a book in one hand and a very stiff prick in the other. His body, freed from the ridiculous foppery of his clothes, was surprisingly well made: broad shoulders, a strong torso and long, lean legs. I stood beside him; the heat from his skin was tangible.

‘Look. I can't make it out.' He handed me the book. I took it, tossed it aside and threw my arms around him. I didn't care what happened. I kissed him on the mouth, his lips parted and we sank to the floor.

‘Strip.'

I did as I was told, hurrying out of my clothes.

‘No. Slower.'

He lay on the floor playing with himself while I peeled off my shirt, my stockings, my trousers. Finally I was as naked as he was. He seemed delighted with the darkness and hairiness of my body, and was soon sucking on my cock with more energy than I had imagined him capable of.

‘You must fuck me. I insist.'

I took little prompting. Spitting into my hand, I slicked up my prick, pushed him face forward over my bed and steered myself in. He let me in immediately, then his arse clamped around my cock like a vice and he started shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet. I didn't have to do a thing; he was clearly used to getting what he wanted.

He flipped over on to his back, held his legs in the air and guided me back in, pulling me down on top of him so he could run his fingers around my chest.

Harder, Monsieur. Harder.'

I fucked him like a machine, driving all my force into his arse, which absorbed every stroke and still wanted more. Soon it was too much; I came inside him.

Jonathan's arse wouldn't let me go. He wrapped his long, slim legs round my waist and used me like a dildo, wanking himself until he squirted all over his stomach. The screen had long since been kicked over; I turned and saw an eye glued to the peephole. My fate, then, was sealed.

Finally my cock was relinquished, Jonathan stood up and dressed himself once more in his hideous garments. I expected words of contempt, but instead he kissed me lingeringly on the lips and looked into my eyes, stroking my face.

‘Till tomorrow, Monsieur.'

‘Yes, sir.'

The door was opened, and Jonathan issued forth. I lay down on my bed and slept for an hour.

To my astonishment, the door was opened a little before the usual feeding hour, and an armed soldier beckoned me outside. I was escorted through the main hall and out into the garden, where I was allowed to roam at will - always under the watchful eye of my guard. I wondered if he was the same who had spied on my sport with the young master?

The fresh air revived me enormously. I returned to my room after half an hour to find a better dinner than normal awaiting me.

And so it has continued ever since. My ‘student' is a quick study and has rapidly overtaken me in his chosen subject. I am permitted to correspond with my friends - Jonathan is eager to do anything that he thinks will undermine his father's position. I have only taken advantage of my freedom on this one occasion, and have couched my letter in the accustomed Greek to avoid falling into traps. Nobody in this household understands a word of the ancient languages. I had always imagined that an English gentleman possessed all the academic accomplishments, but I am sadly disabused of that illusion.

Thus another chapter in my strange saga comes to an end. Perhaps I
will write to you again from Leigh House. Perhaps there really is a rescue party on the way to Scotland. I can do little but wait for fate's next turn of the screw. Escape is impossible.

Believe me, Charlie, to be your devoted friend still, despite the strangeness of my circumstances.

 

Ever your

BL

For once, luck was on my side. I was neither pursued on the road to Glasgow, nor did news of my treachery precede me; the gamble I had taken must have worked. Blair, terrified of the consequences of his failure, had disappeared into thin air, taking the messenger boy with him. Let us hope that they live happily ever after; two more sexually greedy men I have never met.

I rode into Glasgow early on a Sunday morning in March; the streets were quiet, apart from a few well-dressed citizens making their way to church. Upon asking the way to the garrison, I was coldly but politely directed across town to Cowcaddens. The good people of Glasgow obviously took me for a collaborator, and resented my presence in their city. I wanted to lean down from my horse and assure them that I was as good a Scotsman as they - but for now my disguise would have to remain intact. Dissembling had become second nature to me.