Be Careful What You Wish For - 5. Chapter 5 'The Worm Turns'

The call came from Canis Carcinoma inviting Kris to return to work. His absence had created a depressing backlog of work for him, but he was nonetheless glad to be back. Where else could he enjoy daily fresh flowers on his desk, access free phone calls, and have the services of Miss Haggard fetching and carrying? Not that he was grateful to her, oh dear me no!

The faithful retainer greeted her boss with genuine delight,

‘It’s so good to have you back again, sir’

Kris looked up, face twisted with spite,

‘Have you been at my biscuits?’

‘Certainly not, Mr Karton’

‘Don’t act like it’s not possible! Judging by the size of your backside, I’d say you’re no stranger to the cookie jar, and I was sure I left a full box of gypsy crèmes. This is what happens when I’m gone five minutes’

The insulted PA departed, slamming the door. This was, of course exactly what Kris wanted. Going online he logged onto Mince-Meet and found the profile for ‘Guapo-Robo’ one of Roberto’s many soubriquets. Kris immediately messaged his one-night-stand lover, gushing,

‘OMG, It’s true what they say about Latin men! I just had to tell you the other evening was the best time! I still can’t sit down, I’m so excited. I know you said you never do second meets, and I respect that, but I’d love to take you to dinner. Please send me a picture AND lose the clothes! I need something to get me through the day at this doggie-death-camp, ever yours, Kris, XXX’

With a flutter of his finely manicured fingers Kris despatched the sickly sentiments, but there was no time to savour the moment; being online on such sites as Mince-Meet carries a downside, and opens one up to many uninvited attentions. And Kris had opened himself up to many unsolicited incursions in the past. The message opened,

‘SickStalyLad’ of Stalybridge,

‘You’ve got a nice hairy hole’

Kris was not cheered by this unflattering, if accurate statement and was about to quit when,

‘Do you like cider?’

Of course he did, but, puzzled as to how the sick messenger could know this, he foolishly prolonged the dialogue,

‘Yes, I do, why?’

‘Cos I’d like to stick a cider bottle up your hole, and film it. Would you be up for that?’

Kris sank back in his chair, momentarily depressed. Days earlier, an Hispanic Adonis had enriched his life beyond all expectations. Now, this creature was offering to impale him anally with a bottle of Woodpecker. How could both men be moulded from the same clay? Life was an enduring mystery. And, fearing lest the scrapings of the British underclass assail him with more obscene offers the senior pathologist clicked off.

Reaching into his desk’s bottom drawer he withdrew an impressive dildo, reputed to have been fashioned on Jimmy Hendrix’s manhood. He stood the tumescent torpedo end up on the desk, and observed ruefully that his in tray was piled higher even than the mammoth cock; it was time to get back to work!

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Greene Carter sat patiently in an empty class room on the first floor of the Bridgewater building. As instructed, he was half an hour early for tutorial, awaiting the arrival of Roberto. Greene knew only too well how Roberto had profited from this surplus time in the past. He winced as he recalled their first encounter, how he had excitedly reported to Alison his meeting with the new tutor, and how she had spent five minutes trying to brush some of that excitement out of his hair!

This time he wanted to take back something to his sister that he could count as an achievement. But that was easier said than done. Roberto was like a juggernaut driving all before it, and Greene feared that, once he was in that domineering presence all his best intentions would evaporate.

Roberto entered the room, swept over to Greene, smiling broadly, and kissed him tenderly on the lips. Setting down his laptop on the desk he switched it on, then said,

‘I liked your last paper, much improved. I think we can really start to make progress now’

Greene felt like a dormouse in the presence of its most feared predator. Had he got this right - Roberto was in the mood for study rather than sex? Then his tutor’s phone rang. Checking the caller, the Latino laughed out loud and answered,

‘Hola, chaval!’

A rapid fire conversation ensued in Spanish, and after less than thirty seconds Roberto ended the call, ran to the window, and waved wildly at someone in the car park. Without even glancing at Greene, he left the room.

The abandoned student was bemused rather than interested, but after a few moments he too went to the window. Below he could see Roberto run across the campus car park to where another male was standing beside a rather vulgar sports car. They embraced and generally made a fuss of one another, then, walking over to a burger van ordered a snack. Greene watched as the two friends stood eating, laughing, and catching up.

Greene fought off waves of rejection and worthlessness; he determined to fight back; and what came into his mind on this occasion was inspired.

He glanced at Roberto’s unsecured laptop. It interested him to learn what his tutor-lover might have written about him or his work. His first instinct was to search the computer for ‘Greene Carter’ but he found nothing. When, on the other hand, he decided to try ‘Canis Carcinoma’ he was deluged with a bewildering amount of material! Taking from his pocket the flash drive he carried to all his tutorials he decided to copy all the files. Greene’s motive was silly and rather pathetic; he felt he might learn something material that would help him when preparing written work for his moody master. But he had no idea just what he was accessing.

He moved the laptop close to the window to check that Roberto was still comfortably occupied with his friend in the car park. Sitting down, he composed himself and began to monitor the files, one after another, till all were saved.

Greene had no idea what he’d just done, and the impact this information would have. But in the contest that is life he’d turned the tables – completely, and the dormouse had become the cat!

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Gordon loaded the dishwasher with the breakfast pots and plates, then glanced at the clock - school in less than an hour. This was the one day a week he went in late, and as such it was a rare treat. Justin was showering upstairs.

The rescued youngster had settled in well and was showing no signs of wanting to leave; he had brought sunshine into a house occupied by two men who’d increasingly gone their separate ways over the years, and both were very fond of him. Gordon could hear the sound of running water in the bathroom. The older man, deprived of physical love for years, ached to go upstairs and watch as the boy washed and groomed himself, but he restrained the urge and let his imagination do the work instead.

At seventeen Justin had still not filled out, but he had the bloom of youth and his pale body was firm and unmarked. His wayward honey blond hair, grey-blue eyes and freckles gave him an innocence that Gordon knew masked a truly wicked sense of humour. How Gordon loved that sense of the ridiculous and the jokes they’d shared! He longed to laugh with Justin, to drink, to hang out, to make out, to be young again. Then he shrank inwardly from the grotesqueness of his irrational thought; he was a teacher, and thirty one years older; end of.

A knock came to the house door; Gordon was surprised, no-one ever called by.

A tall, thin elderly woman, dressed in black with her grey hair tied back and pinned under a black hat was standing there. Her eyes were balls of haematite on fire,

‘Good morning. You won’t know me but I’m Sister Agnes from the Church of the Hardened Heart, Salford. Word has come to us that you are holding an innocent here, shackled by chains of vice and shame’

Gordon raked through his curly mane of hair, and squeezed shut his eyes in weary disbelief,

‘Come again, love’

‘We know that Satan and his dark forces hold sway in this abode. I’m here to take back that child’

Gordon was bewildered and stood, scratching the back of his neck.

‘I seek a boy called Justin Openshaw. I know he’s here. God grant he hasn’t yet fallen prey to your vile perversions’

Justin meanwhile had finished his shower and come down to see what all the fuss was about. He came to the door, clad only in tracksuit bottoms, languidly towelling dry his hair.

‘Is this the one?’ Sister Agnes cried out.

Justin grimaced, turned to Gordon and shrugged,

‘Oh Christ, not them again!

And, pulling from his tracksuit bottoms a very respectable cock, swollen by the twin stimuli of warm showering and a vigorous scrubbing of the knob-head, he turned to the old woman,

‘Here Sister, is this what you’ve come for?’

And he shook his turgid todger at the ancient hag.

Sister Agnes gasped, falling backwards into the privet hedge. Gordon turned to Justin,

‘I really think you need to go to your room and dress. I’ll deal with this’

He helped the batty old witch out of the bushes and propped her upright, but she was undaunted,

‘I see the Evil One has already left his mark on this child. But a greater burden of guilt rests on him, the corrupter of one so young and chaste’

Gordon’s patience was up,

‘I don’t know who sent you here but you need to leave now’

She persisted,

‘But you shall know, the day will come when..’

‘Fuck off’

The hag stared wildly at Gordon for a while then uttered her valedictory curse,

‘May you have your portion in the lake of fire that burns for all Eternity’

‘FUCK OFF!’

Gordon slammed the door and returned indoors. The big man was shaking and upset. Justin appeared unfazed.

‘Do you know her? Gordon enquired.

‘Not her personally; she’ll be one of those God botherers from Salford’

‘So how did she know you were here?’

‘Beats me’

‘But you said ‘not them again’ as though this has happened before?’

‘Look Gordon, just leave it. There’s no problem’

But Gordon wasn’t convinced

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