Three Tears
Chapter 9
by David Heulfryn
Martin and James were both woken up by their mother barging into their room and announcing they were leaving.
It was still early, but when going round Sunday antique fairs it pays to be early as it's less crowded and you can have a proper look around.
As they heard the front door slam, they groaned in unison and turned over, hutching their quilts tighter under their chins and settling back down for a further few hours sleep.
James was first to wake up properly an hour later. As he lay in bed last night trying to get off to sleep he could hear Martin fidgeting and constantly turning over. He even got up a couple of times to go to the bathroom. Eventually James blocked out the disturbance from across the room and slept. Getting out of bed, he could hear the faint breathing of Martin sleeping so he didn't bother to hide or adjust the tent in his briefs. Last night he'd not had an opportunity to work the tension out of his groin after thinking about Tom standing naked in front of him, so this morning it was harder than usual. Not wanting to disturb Martin, or get caught, James went to the bathroom to take care of himself.
After cumming into his hands, James washed up and waited downstairs for Martin to rise. Sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, he ate his cereal.
It was after half ten, so James thought he might ring up Tom. Hoping he wasn't sleeping in like Martin.
His mother answered the phone and said he's get Tom for him.
As Tom spoke into the phone he sounded sleepy. "Hiya."
"Hi Tom, It's James. Not still in bed are you?"
"Yep."
"Sorry, mate." James imagined him lying in bed, his quilt fallen down his chest to rest on his lap. He wondered what he would see if the quilt was pushed lower and imagined Tom slept naked. As he created this picture in his mind his dick rose again, thankfully it was hidden beneath the breakfast bar.
The reality was somewhat different. Tom had gotten up and was sitting on the edge of his bed clad in cotton pyjamas. They weren't quite the Batman pyjamas he used to wear as a young boy but were just as bright.
"It alright, if you hadn't have rung, she would have been pounding on my door in a few minutes anyway."
"I was just wondering what you're up to today and if you've got plans this afternoon?"
"Nothing really, d'ya wanna get together? You could come on over here."
James went on about how he wanted to get fitter so that he didn't make a fool of himself on camera. He mentioned that he'd not been swimming for almost four years and thought he might try and find his water wings again before they flew out. The last thing he wanted was to get out their and nearly drown.
What a brilliant idea, Tom almost shouted down the phone. And with his training he could teach James so that he would swim like a fish. Tom was getting quite giddy at the thought and they settled on a time to meet outside the pool.
Scratching his head and then rubbing his eyes, Martin padded into the kitchen. Like James he had not bothered to dress and was just wearing his underwear. "Mornin'" Martin yawned and yanked open a cupboard to get the box of cereal.
Still sporting a hard-on from his little fantasy about Tom, James snapped his legs shut, almost crushing his balls to further hide it from view.
"I'm goin' in the front room." Martin poured the milk into his bowl and left James alone.
James waited until his dick had softened before he stood up. Pushing his hand into his briefs he tucked his dick under his legs so that the bulge was less prominent and joined his brother.
With absent minds, they watched television until Martin had woken up properly. Bored with the television he called over to James.
"Are you ok to start?"
"Sure."
Upstairs, James started to make his bed. When Martin came in he could see James' arse cheeks stretching the fabric of his briefs as he bent over his bed, pulling the creases from his quilt.
Turning, he saw Martin grab his jeans and was about to put them on.
"Hey, why don't you just do it as you are? I mean, I'm naked and there's no-one around and you'd be more comfy. Besides it might be good practice for when I do you."
Martin frowned but agreed and just set up his easel and paints.
Between sessions he covered the painting, when dry, in a clean cloth and stored it at the side of the wardrobe; it was out of the way. James had never been tempted to take a peek as he knew he would see it when finished. He also respected Martin decision not to show before it was done, it was the same trust he had in Martin not to read his diary.
Slipping off his briefs, James grabbed his diary and pen and took up the pose. After a few slight adjustments made by Martin from the photograph he had taken before the first session, he was ready.
Martin then hid behind his easel, working the oils into his palette and brushing them onto the canvas.
Despite several attempts at conversation, James sat quiet while Martin seemed to paint frantically, with a new passion that had not been evident before. Occasionally he would hear the odd word from Martin, such as good, nice or no. Whenever he said 'no' it was followed by some careful and intricate brushwork. Sometimes Martin would spend several minutes just looking across at James, still and intense. It was all part of his method, the way he became connected with the subject and assimilated the visual cues into his work.
James had never sat for a picture this length of time before and was beginning to feel the strain. It had only been about two hours but all the previous sessions were short and only lasted an hour at most. He desperately wanted to ask Martin if they could take a break but felt that Martin was in some kind flow and was reluctant to break it. He squirmed a little and slouched down on the bed to get more comfortable.
Looking up from the canvas, Martin said. "No, that's not right." He walked over to James and asked him to sit up. After a few minutes, he got James back in the right pose and was walking back to his easel when they heard the front door slam shut.
"Shit, they're back." James leapt from the bed and scrambled into his clothes, Martin did the same.
While James went downstairs to greet everybody, Martin stayed up in his room and carried on working on the painting. It was nearly finished, he explained, and wanted to carry on. Asking if he still needed him, James was grateful when the offer was declined. He'd got plenty to work on and should be fine. James left it with an open offer to sit again if needed.
Downstairs, James greeted everyone and his mother took pride in showing off her new porcelain jardinière she had bought. James cooed appreciatively when she explained it was Victorian. Asking where Martin was, he explained that he was working on his latest painting and didn't want to be disturbed.
Their mother then went around the house finding the perfect place for her new acquisition.
Martin emerged from his room some time later. James had already gone out. He never bothered asking where he was after he had disturbed him about an hour before and stuffed some stuff into his school bag. He barely acknowledged him and only vaguely remembered him saying a few words to him.
As soon as his mother clapped eyes on him, she showed him her new antique and went into great detail about the other items she saw on the stands which would have looked lovely on the mantle or in the dining room. Their father had conveniently retired to the garden and was pottering around, pulling up the odd weed and trimming the lawn edges.
As he made himself a sandwich, Tony came into the kitchen and started to whine to his mother about something. Martin was grateful for the peace it gave him from her infernal jabbering on. But as Tony went on, she was becoming more and more irate with him. Finally, she said very sternly that she wanted a quiet few hours relaxing before she had to start preparing dinner. She added that she would also have to iron the three boys' clothes ready for school and college the next day and he wasn't to bother her for another two hours.
Tony looked dejected but Martin was grateful for the quiet.
Thinking it best to stay out of the way, Martin stayed in the kitchen and ate. But Tony, exasperated from getting nowhere with his mother, came back, noticed him sitting quiet and started bombarding him with questions.
"Hi." He got Martin's attention. "Do you know why James won't take me swimming with him?"
"Didn't know he'd gone swimming."
"Yeah, with that new mate of his he met up with yesterday."
"Well I think that explains it you plonker."
"What?"
"Well, would you want me or James hanging out with and your mates?"
"Suppose not. But we've not been swimming for years and I really wanted to go." Tony started to skulk away before turning back. "What you up to this afternoon? Will you go with me; Mum won't let me go on my own."
"What about your friends?"
"Oh, they're busy doing something. Don't know what. I know Jake's had to go up north somewhere to see his Gran; but my best mate just said he wasn't free all weekend."
Martin nodded.
"So, you wanna come with me?"
Tony had been banned from sitting and playing his computer games until the evening and was bored. It was a glorious sunny day and all his mother could say was that he should get out a bit. She was having none of it when he retorted that he'd been out all morning with them. The main reason for the hassle she was getting from him was because he wasn't glued to his computer console and, with his friends away, had no idea how to spend his time.
Tony seemed to plead with Martin, asking him if they could do something this afternoon. Slowly persuading him by using the same tack his mother had done with him. "You've been stuck in your dark and dingy room all morning; you could do with some fresh air." Martin knew he was right and did not argue.
"I'm not going swimming with you. It won't be fair."
"Oh, Martin!"
"It's not right to gatecrash James when he's with his friend." Tony drew in a deep breath, "But," Martin quickly interrupted before he could start, "we will go out this afternoon."
"And do what?"
"How about we get our bikes out and ride to the duck pond? There's a park there and the exercise will do us some good."
James was not the first to arrive at the swimming baths; Tom was waiting for him. He sat on a bench outside avoiding the eyes of people who passed him to go inside. He sat watching each bus as it went by and stopped at the bus stop a few yards down the road.
As James stepped off his bus, Tom saw him and beamed a smile as they walked towards each other to meet.
The swimming pool wasn't as busy as he thought it would be. It was only a few weeks before the schools broke up for the long summer holiday, and it was then that he supposed they would be busiest. The young woman behind the reception counter looked tired and bored, barely saying a word to the boys as they handed over the cash and waited for the change.
"Got a 50p for the locker?" Tom asked as they walked along a short corridor to the male changing room.
James dug around in his pocket, retrieving all his copper and silver coins. "Nope."
"Here y'are. I've got two." Tom thrust the coin over to James.
The changing room was empty when they arrived, it was not the individual cubicles he'd expected but was a large room with benches and lockers along one wall; everyone would undress and dry themselves in full view of everyone else.
Both boys quickly stripped and stepped into their trunks without a glance to each other. James wore shorts while Tom modelled the new pair of black trunks he'd bought yesterday.
"What do ya think?" Tom asked. "Still look good in them?"
"Sure." James said, glancing down at the tight fabric which covered him.
After storing their clothes into a locker and fastening the keys around their writs, James was about to walk through to the pool. Tom called him back.
"Shower first." He said and pointed to a notice above James' head.
They ducked their heads under the showers to wet themselves before going to the pool.
There were three different pool altogether, one was a very small and shallow pool which was used for the babies, the main pool was just the standard rectangle and there was another smaller but deeper pool where people dived off a very high diving board. When they arrived, the dive pool was not being used and was coned off to prevent the youngsters from climbing the tower.
Attached to the main pool was a hastily erected water flume to cater for the young children. The leisure centre itself was built over twenty years ago when they didn't exist and its inclusion looked out of place, although kids weren't bothered about the aesthetics of the flume, they just enjoyed the ride and the splash at the bottom. James saw the orderly queue of teenagers forming, waiting until it was their turn and the lifeguard supervising let them on, one-by-one. As they splashed into the water they would swim to the edge of the pool and run to the back of the queue for another go. As they waited, they would chat with their friends, their arms wrapped around their bodies shivering as the water cooled them.
The noise and screams from the young children playing echoed off the walls, making it louder than it probably was. There were several old men and ladies swimming lengths trying to avoid the young kids as they dunked and splashed each other. One young boy of about ten or eleven was climbing on the shoulders of his father and jumping off in the path of his older brother, who would dive under the water and grab the young boys' legs, pulling him under. Sitting on the edge of the pool near the shallow end were three girls, all with immaculate and dry hair. Their costumes were wet but were obviously worried that the splashes from the exuberant boys would dampen their hair and ruin it. The last thing they wanted was to walk home with damp and dishevelled hair; that would not be good for their image. As some teenage boys got out of the pool and walked behind them, they would turn and inch forward in case the water dripping from their bodies fell anywhere near them. The boys weren't bothered and just ignored them, shouting at each other as they ran a few steps and jumped into the pool almost landing on top of their mate who hadn't noticed they had gone and was just about to swim to the side to join them.
Watching this improvised play were a couple of lifeguards. Both were dressed in sweatpants and wore the regulation green council t-shirt, the logo embroidered on the left breast. One sat in his high chair, fiddling with his whistle which dangled from around his neck. The other stood at the base of the high chair and looked up at the young lifeguard. They talked to each other, while watching that the young boys' horseplay didn't get out of hand.
James dropped himself into the water from the edge as Tom walked over to the deep end, dived in and swam half a length under water before surfacing and making his way over to James.
"Show off." James splashed him as he came near.
They both enjoyed their time in the pool. James soon found his water wings again but was struggling to keep up with Tom when they raced each other. Tom would teach him a few techniques to improve his speed and stamina. Breathing was one technique he taught first. James always swam with his head above water but if he breathed correctly, on every second stroke, his head would be down in the water, streamlining his body.
All these little suggestions, James had been taught before but had forgotten. As soon as Tom pricked his memory those swimming lessons he had when he was seven were flooding back. It's just like riding a bike, he thought.
The people in the pool were thinning out slightly and there was very little queue of cold and eager teenagers waiting for a ride on the flume. James and Tom joined the queue and rode it several times but quickly grew bored of the repetitive and short ride; they had both seen and been on better.
As the clock pointed to its hour, there was a change in lifeguards. Not all left and were replaced but a few. The flume stayed open, still monitored by the unenthusiastic girl who kept her arm outstretched, blocking the entrance until the person at the top was on their way down. But we both noticed a young man move the cones from the diving platform. Immediately a group of eager kids ran across and wanted to jump, but the lifeguard slowed them down, gave them some instructions we couldn't hear and then started to let them up one by one.
It was not opened to allow some proper training to take place, it was just another attraction for the young kids to climb and then bomb into the water from a great height.
"I've not tried diving for years." Tom said, looking at the parade of bodies jumping inelegantly off. "Do you want a go?"
"Too high for me." James alluded to either a fear of heights but the thought of hitting the water at such speed scared him slightly.
"D'ya mind if I just have a quick go?"
James watched as Tom climbed from the pool and waited behind a young boy. He seemed to be the oldest waiting, he was certainly the tallest, and looked rather out of place in his black speedos. James watched as a boy reached the top, stood on the edge and looked down. None of them dived properly, they just jumped from the edge and fell feet first into the water. This boy seemed reluctant to jump but the jeering from his mates below tipped him over and he jumped.
Tom was next and James vigilantly watched him stride to the end of the platform. He stood with his toes curled round the end and then raised his arms above his head. Springing on the balls of his feet he pushed off the end, tucked his arms down and fell headfirst. His legs followed the curve his body made on take off to trail behind him, his toes pointing to the ceiling.
As his hands penetrated the water, followed by the rest of him there was a raucous cheering and clapping. A group of boys broke from the queue to congratulate him when he climbed out of the pool. He was smiling and talked to them but James could not hear what was said. With a few backslaps, the boys left Tom alone and rejoined the queue.
"Show off." James quipped for the second time.
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
