Phantom of Aurora by John Ellison
Chapter 23

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The Gunner was standing in front the of BC Legislature, explaining the firing sequence of the guns during the Ceremony of the Flags to Todd, the Battery Commander, and to Cory and Dylan, Captains of A and B guns respectively, when all three boys looked over his shoulder. He turned and saw The Phantom.

The Gunner had known The Phantom long enough to recognize the teen's Full Bore Jug-Eared Green-Eyed Monster Mode. The teen was pissed about something. Behind him, trailing at a prudent safe distance, were Joey, Randy, and David Clayton. The Phantom slammed to a halt in front of The Gunner and braced. "Permission to speak, please, sir?" he all but demanded.

Taken aback, The Gunner nodded as he wondered what he had done to be relegated back to sir. "Uh, sure, Phantom, what's on your mind?"

"When you drive me home tonight, you're going to stay over. You're going to help me fill out all the forms I need to fill out to get into the UNTD Program. And you are NOT going to try to talk me out of it!"

Totally at sea, The Gunner agreed. "Sure, if that's what you want."

"It is!" The Phantom turned and glared first at Todd, then at Dylan. "Never be ashamed of who you are," he began, staring icily at them. "Never be ashamed of what you are and never, ever, be afraid to be who you are!"

Todd and Dylan, who had no idea of what had suddenly bitten The Phantom's behind, nodded in unison. "Uh, sure, Phantom," replied Todd. He glanced at Cory who could do nothing but shrug his ignorance.

Of all the cadets, Cory was the one The Phantom admired most. Cory was fearless, and unlike so many of his peers, did not suffer fools gladly. The Phantom put his hands on Cory's shoulders and held him at arm's length. "Never stop being who you are!" He smiled and then wheeled about, pointing at Joey and Randy. "Come on, you two."

"Where are we going?" demanded Joey, wondering what Phantom was up to.

"Shopping."

"What for?" asked Randy, hurrying to keep up with The Phantom's quick pace. The Phantom turned and motioned for them to hurry up. "You two have been whining for a week about getting new swimming suits. We're going to get you some."

"We are?" asked Joey. He stopped, and then hurried after The Phantom. "But, Phantom, we're poor. Who's going to pay for them?"

Incredulous, The Gunner listened to the fading dialogue between The Phantom and the Makee-Learns.

"I am. That's what Honourary Big Brothers do for Honourary Little Brothers." The Phantom motioned for the two boys to hurry up.

"Hey, great!" Randy slipped his hand into The Phantom's. "Can we get the ones like you and Ray wear? The one's that look like shorts."

"If that's what you want, sure."

"They're expensive," warned Joey. "Could cost a lot of money."

"It's my money," growled The Phantom.

"Okay. Can we get the ones with the built in pouch?" asked Randy. "You know, the ones that hold all your parts in?"

The Phantom looked shocked. "Now why in the fuck would either of you two need swimming shorts with pouches in them? My little finger is bigger than both your cocks put together!"

"It's not nice when Honourary Big Brothers talk to their Honourary Little Brothers like that," replied Joey, ignoring The Phantom's crack about their cocks.

"All this Honourary Big Brother agreed to was that he wouldn't play with his Honourary Little Brothers' willies. Everything else is fair game," returned The Phantom.

Randy's reply drifted back to The Gunner and the three stunned cadets. "We should get them with the pouch, Phantom. We will grow bigger, you know. You did. Well, sort of."

The cadets snickered and The Gunner, still at a loss to understand The Phantom's mood swings, smiled. Then he turned to the cadets. "Do any of you guys know what in hell that was all about?" he asked. The three cadets shook their heads in unison, grimaced, and gave him the standard how would we know, we're Sea Cadets shrug.

"A big help you clowns are," complained The Gunner. He turned to David Clayton, who had been keeping his distance and now ducked his head and looked decidedly sheepish.

"I, ah, told him about Hal . . ." David began tentatively.

"You WHAT?" roared The Gunner.

David Clayton's voice was low but firm: " . . . Look, Stevie, I am sorry about telling Phantom about Hal. But, shit, he was going to find out about it sooner or later."

They were now sitting at poolside, nursing their beers, and keeping an eye or four on the cadets who were skylarking in the pool. Kyle and Andy, together with Number One were conducting supervised sightseeing and shopping tours for most of the cadets. Dave Eddy was busy with the final paperwork clearing everybody out of the Barracks. Chef was busy holding court in the Chiefs Mess over in the Dockyard.

The Gunner looked at David. "I know," he sighed. "He was bound to find out about it sooner or later. I just wish it had been later. When he was mature enough to understand . . ."

"He's mature enough now, Stevie. He understands."

The Gunner agreed. "It's just that he, well he gets so fucking intense about certain things."

David nodded. "There's a fire in that kid, Steve. It flared up a little while ago. Now it's banked." He took a sip of beer. "You have to teach him how to control that fire."

"I know."

"You also have to teach him how to survive. You have to teach him that if he wants a naval career proclaiming that he's gay is not going to help him one bit. Nor is getting all bent out of shape whenever he hears about a gay getting the shaft going to help his career. No pun intended."

The Gunner smiled weakly. "It was a poor one, anyway." He stood up and motioned for David to follow him. "Let's get out of this sun. It's cooler in the restaurant."

"You'll talk to our young crusader?" asked David getting out of his chair.

"On the way home tonight, tonight when I am with him, and every chance I get." The Gunner pointed with his chin. "A little while ago he was 17 going on 50. Now look at him."

David Clayton looked. "He's 17 again. Help him stay 17 for a little while longer, Stevie."

******

"I'm glad this morning went well," said David Clayton, looking at the 40 or so boys swimming and splashing in the pool or showing off around the edge of the azure oblong of water.

"Yeah. The Twins didn't kill anybody and the Band kept in tune. Life is good," replied The Gunner as he signalled the waitress for a round of beer.

David nodded toward the pool area. "Throw in some girls, and life is great."
The Gunner laughed. "For some. Holy Jesus, will you look at the outfit Sylvain's got on!"

David's eyes all but fell out of his head as he saw a tall, slim and very blond cadet strolling languidly (an no doubt thinking sexily) down the length of the pool. The French-Canadian Drum Major was wearing a white racing Speedo and to call the garment skimpy would have been generous. His well-formed, firm ass was barely covered and his thick, uncircumcised penis and large testicles were clearly and graphically outlined. The Speedos were so tiny that half of his dark blond public bush was fully exposed, and tiny tendrils of pubic hair crept and curled out of the leg bands of his suit.

Sylvain's bronzed, well-muscled body, chiselled good looks, and wind tossed blond hair, together with the revealing Speedo, were far and away the hit with the small group of girls who were languidly sunning themselves on the far side of the pool, and hungrily eying the cadets as they cavorted in and around the pool.

The Gunner rolled his eyes as he watched his cadets performing for the ladies. Harry, who was wearing a pair of tri-coloured boxer shorts that he had borrowed from Val, was showing off by doing a handstand on the diving board. As he back-flipped into the pool several of the girls sighed and soft moue's of desire rippled through the air.

Harry was wearing Val's underwear over his tighty-whiteys. The boxers were a size too small, at the least, and the wet briefs under the white, central part of the shorts were almost translucent, showing pinkly his deliberately arranged privates. The Pride of the Fleet and its two oval Escorts did not go unnoticed by the ever-appreciative audience across the pool. Harry's magnificence took one's breath away.

Phillip and his younger brother, Anson, were sitting at the edge of the pool, ostentatiously spreading sunscreen over their crisply muscled arms and chests, stretching and posing. Anson was wearing his swimming trunks low on his hips and every time he bent over the top of his butt crack was exposed. Which is exactly why he was wearing the trunks he had on.

Nicholas, Stuart and Steve loudly proclaimed their presence by yelling and bellowing as they cannonballed into the pool.

Greg had borrowed a pair of trunks from Two Strokes, which did him more service than the shorts Two Strokes had chosen to wear. He, along with Thumper, was wearing US Navy issue khaki swimming shorts. Greg's basket filled the front of his suit admirably and he had a halfway decent ass. Two Strokes' trunks were so tight that while they did outline his balls admirably, the tightness of the shorts tended to squeeze everything between his legs into a tight, compact lump.

Thumper, who was better hung, and had more to show, had emulated Harry and positioned his dick along his stomach, forming a not at all shabby outline in his shorts. Greg kept casting surreptitious glances over at the girls as he strutted and preened, though he found himself glancing less and less at the Fishing Fleet and more and more at Harry.

The Twins, sedately clad in their loose fitting seminarian shorts, came in for more than their fair share of admiring glances, to the extent that Cory told Todd that now he knew exactly how a plump mouse felt when confronted by a particularly hungry cat.

As did The Phantom, who matched the Twins decorous swim wear, dressed in a pair of deep blue and yellow edged swimming shorts (without the pouch to hold his parts) that Randy and Joey had talked him into buying, and while they did not show much his firm chest, well-formed bum, and muscled legs were the objects of some very deliberate leers, which Cory said, was not surprising. "You do have a nice ass, Phantom." He deliberately looked down at The Phantom's crotch. "And you do have a nice basket under those drawers."

"Which is going to stay exactly where it is!" retorted The Phantom just before he dived into the pool.

Brian, Dylan, and Matt lay in a row along the pool, getting in everybody's way, lying first on their backs (to show off their baskets), and then on their stomachs (to show of their butts). They knew they were some punkin', at least until Nicholas walked by. Tastefully clad in a black Speedo his perfect, slim, well formed body, smooth chest and impressive basket set up such a muted hue and cry that Matt said it sound like a meeting of the local Kennel Club and, in a huff, jumped into the pool.

Brian and Dylan were not far behind: four Sea Puppies, who were tired having to walk half way to the Dockyard to get to other side of the pool, set upon them. Both unsuspecting gunners were grabbed under their shoulders and hips and expertly flipped into the pool, rolling off the edge like two inert depth charges. Cackling and high-fiving each other the Sea Puppies quickly departed the area for safer climes.

Joey and Randy, resplendent in their new swimming trunks (with the pouch to hold their parts in), were loudly badgering Ray for a water fight. They had been pronounced "cute" once too often and wanted to get as far away from the giggling pests as possible.

The Twins joined The Phantom in the pool and when they heard Randy and Joey pestering Ray they took up the challenge. Todd ducked under the water and positioned himself between Cory's legs. He lifted his brother up and out of the water. "Okay, guys, it's me and Cory. Who's up?"

"Come on Joey, let's show 'em!" The Phantom bent over and Joey jumped on his back, then wiggled his way up to sit on The Phantom's shoulders.

Randy yelled at Ray, who agreed to join them. Soon Randy was sitting on Ray's shoulders, his legs tightly wrapped across Ray's chest. "We're ready, so watch your ass!" he crowed at the Twins.

"I always do," yelled Cory, making a grab for Randy, who ducked. "Two against one, huh?" he continued, warily eying The Phantom and Ray who were circling the Twins like a pair of predatory sharks.

"Yeah," replied Joey with a lunge, missing as Cory dodged sideways. "You're bigger than us."

"Not that much bigger," hooted Todd, which earned him a sharp rap on the top of his head from Cory's knuckle.

"Guess who's meeting with Mrs. Fist for the next month," returned Cory. "And maybe the month after that."

Ray laughed so hard his knees buckled and Joey giggled so much he almost fell from The Phantom's shoulders. When the antagonists recovered they began their battle in earnest, laughing and grappling at each other, Todd hip-checking Ray and The Phantom, trying to knock them off their feet, while Joey and Randy grappled and pulled at Cory.

Sitting at the far end of the pool, aloofly apart from the rest of the cadets, Tyler and Val watched the water fights with interest. Val sighed. "Sometimes it's the pits being a Chief. Everybody expects you to be so fucking dignified." Tyler nodded. "You know, I haven't been in a water fight for three years. Remember?"

"Yeah, we whupped Goodson Worth Ladbrook's ass."

"The Fourth?" asked Tyler.

"The same. Him and his part-time bumboy, Ashton Hart."

"Part-time?" Tyler gave Val a quizzical look.

"Yeah, Ashton only let Goody fuck him every other week. On the off week Goody slipped the pepperoni to Powers Gage."

"Jesus, Val, how the hell do you get all your gossip?" asked Tyler, shaking his head in disbelief.

Their recollections of the sexual habits of their classmates at Upper Canada College School were interrupted by a loud shout from the pool. They looked up and saw that Joey had been knocked off of The Phantom's shoulders and into the water and almost fell off their chairs laughing as they heard Joey, cursing a blue streak while, as nimble as a monkey, he scampered up The Phantom's back and resumed his position. He thumped The Phantom on the head. "Hold me tight, Phantom, damn it!" he ordered. Joey shook his fist at The Twins, then at Randy and Ray. "No Prisoners!" he yelled. "Come on, Phantom, CHARGE!"

Tyler looked at Val, who nodded. "Let's do it!"

Both teens stood up and dove into the pool, two sleek, graceful boys propelling themselves with the speed of otters under the water. Matt yelped when he felt a body slip between his legs and lift him high in the air. He looked down and saw Tyler grinning back at him. "Take up thy sword and buckler, Matthew, and gird up they loins. The battle awaits."

Matt grinned back. "Bugler, Sound Action Stations!" he bellowed, waving his arms. "Full Ahead Both Engines, Number One! Hoist Battle Ensigns, Chief Yeoman, for yonder sails the enemy!"

Tyler and Matt joined the fray, fighting alongside The Twins.

Thumper suffered a similar experience to Matt. Val lifted him on his shoulders and wiggled him into position. "Into Battle, Brave Thumper," he shouted, "and let us show those heathens our mettle."

"Steady The Drums!" shouted Thumper.

"And don't pop a stiffy while you're up there," returned Val, remembering Thumper's reputation, as they pushed through the water to stand beside The Phantom and Joey.

Stuart motioned for Steve to climb up on his shoulders. When Steve had settled himself, his legs firmly gripping Stuart's torso, he pointed at the wrestling, laughing boys. "Charge! No Prisoners!" he yelled, taking up Joey's battle cry.

Stuart started to move forward, and then he stopped. He looked up at Steve. "Uh, Steve, whose side are we on?"

"Who gives a fuck?" Steve shouted. He rocked his body forward. "Charge! No Prisoners! Up the Ox and Bucks!"

******

At the shallow end of the pool Kevin and David sat watching the battle lines forming and trying not to listen to Chris and Jon bickering. Both cadets wore dark blue gym shorts over tighty-whiteys as they had both neglected to bring their swimming trunks. Kevin had been swimming and the damp garments he wore covering his middle set off to perfection his firm, well-formed behind, which, when combined with his firm muscled chest, square jaw and dark blond hair had drawn him more than a few appreciative looks from the other end of the pool.

David had seen the looks Kevin's basket and overall physique had drawn from the ladies and admitted to himself - certainly never to Kevin - that he could not blame the girls. Kevin was one hell of a good-looking guy. What David could not understand was his fellow cadet's seeming indifference to the hungry looks he was getting from the far end of the pool. David, while hardly ugly, and with a body almost as good as Kevin's, had not drawn half the looks that Kevin had. Of course, both of them were up against some pretty stiff competition, what with Harry flashing the Pride of the Fleet, Nicholas wandering around in a Speedo that left nothing to the imagination and Sylvain strutting like a banty rooster with his balls all but hanging out.

What made David even more curious was that Kevin - who had to know what was going on - seemed to be off in another world, watching the swimmers and not responding at all to the obvious come-ons wending their way to him. David could not for the life of him understand why Kevin's attention seemed to be riveted on the growing war in the pool. There was not all that much interesting going on.

What David did not know was that Kevin's attention was focused on a certain slim, dark haired, dark eyed cook, who ever since Kevin had arrived in AURORA had set the end of his penis to tingling and caused him to have two monumental and completely unexpected wet dreams! Watching Ray and his rider as they manoeuvred to avoid Cory's grasping arms, bobbing and weaving, Kevin felt a definite surge of desire. He was vaguely aware of David nattering on about something but his whole attention was focused on Ray. Gosh, Ray was so . . .

David, who was shaking his arm, rudely jerked Kevin back to earth. Kevin pulled away and stared at the young gunner. "Uh . . . what?" he managed to get out, unaware that he was blushing.

"What's the matter with you, Kevin?" demanded David, wondering why Kevin was so red in the face all of a sudden. "I've asked you three times now if you want to go into the pool."

"Uh, well, I was thinking about something else," replied Kevin truthfully. He looked over the growing battle and nodded. "Sure, let's go."

Kevin slipped into the pool and David mounted his shoulders. "So, Kevin, which side then?"

His deep blue eyes sparkling, a wolfish smile on his face, Kevin thrust his firm, strong chin toward Cory and Todd Ray. "We're with our gunners, naturally." David did not need to know that if they were on the side of the gunners there was a very good chance that they would soon be doing single combat with the enemy . . . with Ray and he could, in all innocence, just maybe, accidentally, cop a quick feel and . . .

David dug his heels into Kevin's ribs. "Let's go!" he yelled.

"Stop rubbing your dick in my neck!" returned Kevin. He liked David, and David had a good body and a fairly decent dick, but there came a point when a guy had to draw the line! Kevin moved forward stealthily. "Remember, we're on the side of the Twins and the cooks are our enemies," he warned David.

"Confusion to our enemies, then!" David cackled and lunged at the nearest set of bodies.

******

Jon could not understand at all. Chris was as sore as a bear with a sore pecker and there was no reason for it, no reason at all! He had tried to make the young boatswain understand that he had to stay with his mates, and so what if he had shared a bed with Two Strokes. "Goddamn, it, Chris!" exploded Jon in an exasperated snarl. He was thoroughly fed up with his lover's jealousy. "Okay, I slept with Two Strokes! Big deal. That's all I did. I slept in the same fucking bed with him."

Jon began to stand up. Chris reached over to hold him back but he shook off the restraining hand. Jon bent down and whispered furiously. "Chris, I did not have sex with Two Strokes. I did not suck his dick, fuck his ass or lick him from head to toe. He did not suck my dick, fuck my ass, or lick me from head to toe. I don't think we even touched each other! That's the truth and you can believe me or not!" Jon began walking toward the restaurant, angry and frustrated that Chris would dare to think that he would even think of doing Two Strokes; much less accuse him of doing Two Strokes.

Chris, secretly angry with himself for allowing a kernel of jealousy to gnaw away at him and afraid that he had lost what he treasured most in life, jumped up and hurried after Jon. He caught up with him and put his hand on Jon's shoulder. Jon stopped and turned to look at the slim youth he treasured most in life. "What?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry. Please, Jon, I'm sorry." Chris was almost in tears. "I just, it's just, fuck Jon I love you so much I can't bear the thought that you'd sleep with anybody but me."

Jon was deeply touched by Chris's words. "You love me that much?"

Chris nodded. "I don't ever want to lose you, not ever!" he declared.

Not daring to embrace each other they walked slowly away from the restaurant entrance. All around them more and more of the cadets were slipping or jumping into the pool, pairing up and entering what gave promise to be a monumental battle royal in the pool.

They stood as close as they dared at the bottom of the stairs leading to the upper level of the motel, just looking into each other's eyes. Finally Jon spoke. "When we first started, you know, fooling around, I thought I was just some summer fuck. I liked what we were doing and I figured it would be over soon, and I would go back to Hamilton, and well, you know, it would be over."

"Don't say that, Jon. Please, don't say that!"

"What was I to think, Chris? You were always going on about Kyle, and the Fort Henry Guard. Then that night, after our wet down, and we made love for the first time, I knew that I loved you. Not just for the sex, which is great, but well, shit, man, I like just being with you. I'd hang around after work, waiting for the bus to get back, just to see you. I love just being with you.

"We'd go to the Ropewalk, or Bosun Stores, and I'd think, Christ, how could I be doing these things? What did I do to deserve a guy like you?" Jon slammed the flat of his hand against the upright supporting the upper veranda. "Then you'd say something about what a hunk Kyle is, or how once you got into Queen's you had to check out the Guard and fuck, Chris, I get so mad!"

Chris reached out and ran his fingers along Jon's face and lips. "Please, Jon, listen to me, please."

"Dammit, Chris, what the fuck do you want from me?" Jon ran his fingers through his short-cropped hair. "I love you, man, and you go and you accuse me of fucking Two Strokes!"

"Jon, I shouldn't have, I know that. It's just that, fuck, I've never been in love before. I thought I was in love with Kyle, but I'm not." Chris slid down and squatted at the base of the upright, his knees drawn up, and his face full of pain. "That first time, in the Breezeway, when I put the moves on you, I was on the make. I liked you, and I wanted to be with you. I figured you'd let me suck you off, and that would be the end of it. Then we did it again, and the more I was with you, the more I loved you."

"You've got a funny way of showing it," replied Jon. He sat down beside Chris and poked him in the ribs. "You really love me?"

Chris grinned and nodded. "Yeah, Jon, I do," he said quietly. "I'd sit on that fucking bus and wonder if you'd be waiting for me. We'd turn onto the Spit and I'd crane my neck, looking for you. Then I'd see you and this warm feeling would come over me and all I wanted to do was get off that fucking bus and hold you and hold you." He looked at Jon, his eyes filled with the love he felt for the other boy, and underscored with the pain he felt for hurting him. "That first time, after our wet down, and we made love, and you were so kind, and sweet, and gentle, I knew I loved you. When I was with Todd, or Cory, we were fucking. With you, we were making love. Ever since that night I haven't thought about anybody else. Not Kyle, not the Guard, not anybody. Just you."

"Then why the bullshit routine?" demanded Jon, no longer angry.

Chris snorted and shook his head. "I was in love and I was jealous. Even though I knew that it was stupid, I'd see you talking to some guy and get all jealous. When we played baseball and Cory, or Todd would score and you slapped them on the ass, God was I jealous! I remembered how tight you and Two Strokes were before I came along, and I thought, when you told me that you'd slept with him . . ."

"Chris, I have never had sex with Two Strokes. I have never had sex with any other guy except you. Please believe me, Chris. I don't want to have sex with anyone else but you. I won't ever love any other guy but you."

"I know. I am such an asshole."

"Yeah, you are," agreed Jon. Then he leaned over and murmured in Chris's ear. "But then, Kyle is a hunk."

"He . . . WHAT . . .?"

Jon laughed and stood up. "He is a hunk. I've seen the Fort Henry Guard. They're hunks too. Their beards turn me off, though." He stood up and gestured. "Get up."

"Where we going?"

"Upstairs to my room. That's if you want to."

Chris nodded slowly, the looked at Jon and smiled shyly. "You know I do."

Jon returned the smile and looked up the stairs leading to the bedrooms on the upper level. "I read somewhere that the best thing about having a fight with the one you love is the making up afterward."

Chris's smiled broadened. "Maybe we should fight more often."

******

As Chris and Jon ascended the stairs Ryan, who had been watching them from his chaise, turned to Rob, who was engrossed in the scene in the pool. He leaned over and shook Rob's shoulder. Rob turned and saw the sly smile of Ryan's face. "Something on your mind?" he asked.

"Well, my bathing suit is tight, and wet, and it's chaffing my most delicate part," returned Ryan with a sly smile. He ran his hand slowly down the lump in his swimming shorts. "My most delicate part."

Rob grinned widely. He gave Ryan a seductive leer as he said, "Maybe you should take off your suit. Maybe your most delicate part should get some tender, loving care."

Ryan returned Rob's leer and nodded toward the stairs leading to the rooms up top. "That sounds like a good idea. But my most delicate spot is very tender, and I might need some help getting my suit off. Any suggestions?"

Rob slipped off the chaise he was lying on and bent low as he whispered in Ryan's ear, "Well, I just happen to be an expert in removing articles that offend delicate parts. If you'd like to come up to the room I would be happy to show you my technique."

Giggling, Ryan uncoiled himself from his seat. Together the two boys ascended the stairs.

******

André, who was sitting on the far side of the pool listening to Sylvain making a complete ass of himself with the girls gathered there, saw Ryan and Rob follow Jon and Chris up the stairs. He snickered a bit and then stopped. Chris and Jon, Rob and Ryan, they weren't the first guys to make special friends. They would not be the last, for all that the priests back home railed against "special friendships".

Goofy fucks, André thought, referring to the Jesuits at Loyola Academy, where Sylvain was a boarder and he was a dayboy. Shit, when the lights went out it was like a mass migration. Nobody slept in his bed alone. Even Sylvain had been known to visit a bedroom or three after the last bed check.

A riot of giggles drew his attention back to Sylvain and the girls. Sylvain's accent was, as one of the girls put it, "enchanting". Actually, Sylvain's English accent was atrocious and he mangled English verbs and tenses with an unconscious vengeance. André didn't know what pissed him off more, Sylvain's attempt to act the part of a sophisticated French teenager of the world, which he wasn't, or the getup he had on, which he would not have dared wear back home in Quebec, or having to sit and watch him wiggling and giggling comme un certain garcon de loyer de Sherbrooke.

But then, no, André reconsidered, a Sherbrooke Street rent boy wouldn't draw so much attention to himself. Not that André had that much experience with Sherbrooke Street rent boys. He'd seen them, of course, and periodically the police would sweep the street of them, which usually resulted in raging editorials in the newspapers and stern sermons from the priests, all decrying the moral collapse of French-Canadian society thanks to the influence of the maudit Anglais. Glancing scornfully at Sylvain, André looked around the pool. He saw Nicholas sitting near the shallow end, dabbling his feet in the cool water, chuckling at the antics of the boys in the pool.

André and Nicholas were more acquaintances than friends. Nicholas did live in Montreal, but he was from the distrusted (and, in some quarters, hated) Anglo Aristocracy, his family having come over with Wolfe in 1759. He attended the Anglican Cathedral Boys School and given the degree of animosity that existed between the two Churches in Quebec, André never saw Nicholas except at cadets, and even this caused discontented grumblings amongst the Catholic clergy. The "English" Sea Cadets would corrupt good French boys and turn them away from the One True Church.

André wandered down the length of the pool and sat down beside Nicholas. "Ca va?" he asked as he sat down beside the Yeoman of Signals.

"Hey, André, how's it hanging?" replied the handsome, dark-haired Yeoman, a broad grin on his finely chiselled face.

"Up and down, Yeoman," replied André, returning the grin. He waved toward the pool where the cadets, ably directed by Tyler and Todd, were forming battle lines. "Comment, I mean, why are you not out there?" When around English boys André made every effort to speak proper English, and to avoid the idiomatic French he spoke at home and in school.

Nicholas ruffled André's hair. "I was waiting for a partner. You game, petit?" André took no umbrage at being called "petit", which only meant "little one". He had to admit that he was little, at least compared to Nicholas. He smiled back, pointed first at Nicholas, then at himself. "You and me?"

Nicholas slid into the shallow water. "Sure. Climb aboard." He indicated his back and André hopped on. When André was safety ensconced on his shoulders Nicholas firmly grasped the smaller boy's thighs. "Try not to fall off. You ready?"

André nodded firmly. "Whose side are we on?"

Two lines of combatants, one under Tyler's command, the other under Todd's had been formed and was preparing to charge. As Chief Yeoman Nicholas decided to go with Tyler. "Tyler's. Steady up, mon petit Sticks, here we go," said Nicholas as he began pushing through the water toward the battle lines.

"En avant, mon enfant," hollered André. "Je me souviens!"

Not to be outdone Nicholas shouted his own battle cry. "England and St. George!"

******

Greg was tired of watching both Sylvain and Harry try to outdo the other in impressing the girls. He stood up and was about to jump into the pool, thinking what the fuck, a solo fight is better than no fight at all, when Harry jumped in beside him. "Where ya goin'?" demanded Harry.

Greg indicated the two, firmly drawn lines of battle. "There. Better than watching you wave your dick at the bimbos." He started swimming toward the shallow end of the pool where the lines were formed. "You're not getting anywhere, you know," he yelled back, not knowing that Harry had dived under the water. He felt Harry's head pass through his legs and before he knew it he was sitting high on Harry's shoulders. "Hey! What the fuck? He bent forward and saw Harry grinning back at him.

"Jealousy is a very ugly thing, Greg," opined Harry.

"I am not jealous! What makes you think that I could possibly be jealous?" snapped Greg, who secretly was jealous. "I am not jealous of anything you might sniff around!"

Harry laid back his head and rubbed against Greg's crotch. "Yeah, you are, but, no matter. I feel like biting some bum!"

"Ah, Harry, no biting, please," whined Greg. "They'll blame me and you're under the water and . . ."

Harry roared so loudly that Greg started and almost fell off his shoulders. Like the greatest of Great Whites Harry moved slowly down the pool. "Crystal waters turn to dark," he intoned. "Where're his presence leaves its mark!"

"And boiling waters pound like drums," laughed Greg.

"When something wicked this way comes! Aaaargh!" bellowed Harry.

******

In the motel restaurant Dave Eddy and Chef, their business and drinking in the Dockyard finished, arrived and sat at the table with The Gunner and David Clayton. Chef looked out at the maelstrom of laughing, struggling boys. "You going to do anything about that?" he asked The Gunner.

"Nope."

"Not even if your boys are getting their asses whipped?"

The Gunner peered through the high glass window. Harry had joined the fray and he and Nicholas were in process of upending Joey and Randy, who were clinging like limpets to The Phantom and Ray. As the onlookers in the restaurant watched, Harry butt-checked Ray and Randy went elbow over ass into the water. Joey followed seconds later when André, who was stronger than he looked, managed to grab him and pull him down from The Phantom's shoulders.

Joey and Randy, sputtering and muttering vile oaths, paddled swiftly to the edge of the pool and watched as Ray scrambled onto The Phantom's shoulders. "That was no fair!" said Joey indignantly. "Greg is too big, and look at that horse André is on."

Randy, his dark red hair plastered to his skull nodded his agreement. "They should stick to guys their own size."

Joey agreed. Then he grinned and whispered in Randy's ear. Randy's eyes darted about as he listened. Then he grinned back.

Noiselessly both boys slid into the water and dove, paddling just above the bottom of the pool, ignoring the thrashing and boiling waters above them. They spotted their targets ahead and as swift and sure as Mark IV torpedoes they surged forward.

Their first target was easy to spot. Harry's red, white and blue shorts stood out like a beacon. Harry, with Greg firmly on his shoulders, was standing hip to hip with Nicholas and André, doing battle with the Twins while Nicholas and André took on Stuart and Steve.

Harry did not at first feel the deft and nimble fingers undo the buttons on the shorts he was wearing. He did feel them being suddenly pulled down. He bellowed and saw a slim, red-haired body dart past his legs, pulling on his suit. Other hands pulled on his briefs. Harry, with his legs going out from under him and Greg on his shoulders, went off balance and crashed forward, sending up a huge spray of water that inundated the Twins. At almost the same moment Nicholas felt his Speedo being pulled down. He bent forward to see a slim, dark haired body flit by. He had forgotten that André was on his shoulders and when he bent forward André's weight carried them both forward and into the water.

Harry managed to right himself and was reaching over to give Greg a hand when the same red-haired apparition zipped by and pulled The Pride of the Fleet. Harry was not hurt but he was surprised. He roared and dove after the retreating Randy. In the process his shorts slipped off his ankles.

Nicholas, who had managed to untangle himself from André's flailing arms and legs, barely had time to react when another figure, dark haired, slipped up behind him, slipped his hand between his legs and pulled lightly on his free-floating penis. Nicholas was so shocked he leapt into the air and fell back, just missing André, who sank like a stone, and was immediately set upon by Randy and Joey who, although André struggled mightily, managed to pull down his trunks. They also managed to pull them off.

Like a porpoise Joey rose high in the air, waving André's swimming trunks over his head. With a whoop he let fly and the shorts arced over the heads of the swimmers and landed in the water at the far end of the pool.

Harry, who was roaring and threatening death to the slim figure that darted in and out of his legs, lunged at Randy and missed. On this pass Randy scooped up Harry's shorts and, when he broke the surface of the water, waved them about his head in a circle and then let fly. They flew against the restaurant window and slid slowly down, ending up in a sodden lump in the ornamental shrubbery that marked the end of the pool area.

Dave Eddy looked at Chef and David Clayton, and then at The Gunner. "Well?" he snapped, staring at The Gunner.

"Well, what?" asked The Gunner, all innocence.

"Aren't you going to anything? Or haven't you noticed that they're pulling each other's laundry off out there."

"Not me," replied The Gunner. "I've learned my lesson. Besides, you're the officer. You do it." He winked at Chef and David Clayton.

By this time Harry, who was pissed off at Greg laughing at him for having his swimming suit stripped off of him, had upended the Writer and was pulling off Greg's suit. Greg, although at a disadvantage, was trying to swear, keep afloat with one hand, and hold on for dear life to his swimming trunks with the other. He lost the battle and Harry moved away, throwing Greg's trunks in a high arc. They landed with a soft plop on the sloping roof of the motel.

André, blushing red all over, swam to where Nicholas was standing, grabbed the taller boy's shoulders and wrapped his legs around Nicholas's waist, all the while babbling away in Jouel, the patois of French Canada. Nicholas, who could feel André's naked flesh against his behind, reached down and pushed André up, holding him in the piggyback position. "What the fuck's the matter. And speak English, damn it!"

"Nicholas . . . I'm naked . . . I have no pants on!" wailed André. "There are jeune filles . . . girls over there!"

"So? I'm not wearing anything, either. And I'm sure you haven't anything those girls haven't seen before." Nicholas let André down at the side of the pool. The water was deep enough and covered André up to mid-chest.

"Maybe so, but I sure don't want them to see it! My mother hasn't seen me naked since I was seven!" André cowered against the side of the pool his hands firmly cupping his privates.

"Hold on, then," said Nicholas. He dove into the water and began searching for their trunks. André smiled widely when Nicholas returned, holding up his suit. "Here ya go, petit, now you can be decent again."

"Merci, thanks, Nicholas." André slipped under the water and struggled into his swimming shorts.

"Honestly, André, I don't understand you," said Nicholas when André surfaced. "You've been naked before."

"Only in front of guys!" André hauled himself out of the water and moved away from the edge of the pool. "Women don't have to see what they don't have to see!"

Nicholas, his Speedo back on, joined André. "Hell, André, they might like it. For a pur lain Cavalier you ain't got nothing to be ashamed off."

André blushed again. He looked pointedly at the bulge in Nicholas's black Speedo. "And for un vrai roundhead Anglais you are not too bad either."

"I'm glad somebody agrees with me!" laughed Nicholas. "So, petit, we go back?" He nodded toward the battle in the pool.

André shook his head firmly. "Non! Too many sharks in that sea!"

"You've got that right! Let's go into the restaurant. Maybe The Gunner will take pity on a couple of sailors down on their luck and buy us a Coke."

******

In the pool Stuart and Steve saw Ray and The Phantom moving toward The Twins who were preparing to fend off boarders in the shape of two sets of drummers who were approaching at a rate of knots. Stuart moved as fast as he could through the water, heading to the aid of the Twins, dodging swimming suits and bosuns.

Harry and Greg decided to try a flanking movement and were making their way around the rear of The Twins. Too late Ray saw the sneak attack and shouted a warning. Todd felt himself being lifted into the air, which sent Cory toppling into the water where Greg pounced. Cory's shorts went flying through the water. Todd, wiggling like a demented eel felt his shorts being pulled off. He managed to break away but his shorts were in Harry's hand.

Harry laughed maniacally and Todd's shorts joined Greg's swimming trunks on the roof of the motel. He dove under the water and swam up behind Todd, grabbed him by the waist and lifted him high in the air, giving the girls gathered around Sylvain, and a passing busload of Japanese tourists, a full view of Todd's pink and tan parts. The girls all screamed little girl screams and pretended to cover their eyes. The tourists hurriedly snapped pictures with the cameras they all seemed to be carrying.

"Yum, yum, yum," gnarled Harry, "nice fresh Arundel bum!"

Todd squealed and twisted free. He hit the water, his arms flailing, determined not to let Harry's snapping jaw anywhere near his butt. Cory, who had seen Todd being lifted in the air, dove under the water and quickly reached Harry, who was slowly gaining on Todd. Cory, never one to slam the door shut when opportunity came knocking, with exquisite timing reached up and gave The Pride and its Escorts a firm, handsome feel.

Harry stopped in mid-stroke, sank, and then surfaced, sputtering and spitting. Todd, treading water in the deep end of the pool smiled and waved at Harry. Then, like a U-boat returning to its natural element, he sank slowly under the water.

Greg was almost immediately at Harry's side. "You might as well give up trying to catch him, Harry. Him and Cory have won the BC Swimming Championships three years in a row."

"I know," returned Harry with a grin. "But what the hey, it's fun trying."

"He ain't never going to let you bite his ass," laughed Greg.

"I'm not really going to bite him. But he doesn't know that. Look, there he is." Todd, convinced that Harry was after his ass, big time, saw Greg join forces with his tormentor. He had two options: dive deep and keep under water, or get out of the pool. He looked quickly around, blanched at the sight of eight girls playing peek-a-boo with their hands, and dove under the water.

Cory had joined forces with Joey and Randy. Cory nodded toward Tyler and Matt. The Makee-Learns grinned and nodded enthusiastically. Like three of the hungriest barracudas in the sea they glided slowly toward their prey, circling slowly.

As Ray grappled with Matt there was just enough room between Tyler and The Phantom for Cory to streak through between them. As he passed he gave each of them a quick feel. The Phantom and Tyler, startled by the unexpected underwater assault on their persons, both arched back, unseating Ray and Matt, who fell backwards into the water. Joey and Randy immediately pounced upon the Phantom and Tyler and two more bathing outfits went flying through the air.

"God damn it! They did it to me again!" complained Tyler loudly. "Where the fuck are my drawers?"

"Around here somewhere with mine," replied The Phantom. "There they are . . . oh shit, they're after Matt!"

The wolf pack had circled and was attacking the unsuspecting Matt. Joey and Randy approached him from either side and yanked on his swimming shorts. Matt instinctively reached down do pull them up, which afforded Cory an opportunity to slip his hands through Matt's spread legs and tweak the knob of his penis. Matt let go of his shorts and the Makee-Learns pulled them off and swam quickly away, circled and re-entered the fray, setting their sights on Kevin and David.

******

Kevin, with David still firmly on his shoulders, had teamed up with two of the Chippy Chaps, Pat Tremaine and Daniel Sutterley, both blond-haired, broad shouldered, deeply tanned authentic cowboys from the Alberta cattle country, each with a slim, light-weight Sea Puppy on their shoulders. The objects of their attack, Val and Thumper, were standing back-to-back with Stuart and Steve, who was snarling and snapping threats at the circling attackers. None of the cadets saw three sleek forms gliding silently under the water toward them.

The first to founder was Daniel. He let out a most un-cowboy like squeal, leaped into the air and sent his rider, arms and legs flailing, flying into the air. While Kevin and Pat looked around to see what the hell was going on Daniel disappeared under the water, to reappear, spouting and gasping, his bathing suit sinking slowly to the bottom of the pool. Pat had barely time to react to Daniel's destruction when he felt a warm presence slip up the back of his swimming trunks and fondle his but cheek. His eyes flew open and his mouth gaped as he let out a strangled roar. He emulated his friend and leap upward, trying to shake off the grasping hands that were pulling down his suit (and giving the tip of his dick a good rub into the bargain). Perched on his shoulders Bobby Baugnier, a dark-haired Sea Puppy, held on for dear life while Pat bucked and jumped. They both ended up sinking slowly, although Bobby did not have his shorts removed.

Kevin felt not one, but two hands assaulting him, snaking up the leg of his trunks, one hand cupping his bits and pieces while the other rubbed its way up the crack of his butt. He thrust his body backwards, sending David flying, flipped and began frantically swimming toward the sanctuary of the side of the pool. He reckoned without Cory, who snatched at his trunks, pulling them down. When he reached the side of the pool and stood up he saw Ray, who had wisely decided to withdraw from battle, standing above him.

Ray saw Kevin's well-formed, thick, pink and buff circumcised penis, his deeply muscled chest and strong, firm face and . . . He quickly turned away, making for the poolside toilets, and praying the Kevin had not seen the lump growing in his trunks.

******

At the far end of the pool Harry and Greg had given up on trying to catch Todd, who was at the other end of the pool wreaking as much havoc as he could. "So, Harry, what the fuck do we do now?" asked Greg. "We are naked, you know, and your shorts and mine are nowhere in sight."

"Well, we can't get out of this damned pool. I am not flashing my parts to half of Victoria." Harry looked around for something to cover himself with. Then he spotted Sylvain. "Come on, Greg, we'll get Sylvain to give us a couple of towels."

They swam to the side of the pool and coughed delicately. Sylvain, who had been trying his damnedest to focus attention on himself and not the strip show being performed in the pool, turned his head. "Oui?" he asked with Gallic disdain.

"Fuckin' frog!" muttered Greg.

"Hush, Greg," returned Harry with a saccharin grin. "Sylvain, shipmate, brother, would you be kind enough to hand two sinners a towel to cover their nakedness?"

"Wha . . ." Sylvain's jaw dropped. "You have nothing on! Vous . . . I mean, there is nothing down there?"

The girls, who were frankly bored with Sylvain's act, began giggling. "Is there really nothing down there?" asked one of the girls. Harry was awfully good looking and . . .

"The Pride of the Fleet is down here," replied Harry seriously. An evil grin crossed his face when he asked, "Would you like to see it?"

"Non! NO!" shouted Sylvain, who knew exactly what the Pride of the Fleet was. "There is no shame on you, 'Arry. You should not do such things." He quickly looked about for some towels.

"Is this git for real?" asked Greg with a sneer.

Sylvain snatched some towels from the girls, who squealed, but watched, intrigued and not a little curious about the Pride of the Fleet. As Sylvain approached the edge of the pool Harry winked at Greg, who grinned and winked back. Sylvain, who was muttering in French about shameless maudit Anglais exposing their parts, bent over to hand the towels to Harry.

Harry, grinning, reached up and with one hand he grasped the towels. His other hand flashed and grabbed Sylvain's wrist. He pulled Sylvain into the pool.

As he plunged into the deep water Sylvain felt fingers, and then hands, reach under the waistband of his Speedo. By the time he hit bottom his white trunks were in Harry's hand.

Harry laid the Speedo on the deck in front of the girls who were giggling loudly. "A souvenir of the Cadets of HMCS AURORA," he said with a courtly bow. He saluted the girls and with Greg following swam toward the pool ladder.

******

In the restaurant, Dave Eddy, arms crossed, stood glowering. He saw Harry and Greg, towels wrapped around their waists, searching along the poolside for their swimming trunks. As he watched the wolf pack, reinforced by Todd, made a successful attack on Val and Thumper. Todd, waving Val's shorts aloft, paddled around the pool.

What Dave could not see was that Cory, Joey and Randy, ever loath to let an opportunity slip past were darting about under water. No one was safe. Two drummers and three bosuns quickly exited the pool after having their privates nipped and poked. At the far end of the pool Sylvain, one hand cupped protectively over his privates, was treading water and pleading for the return of his Speedo.

Dave watched as Val's swimming shorts went flying through the air. There was a brief flash of red, pink and bronze as Tyler leaped and caught them. "Are you interested in the fact that the Master at Arms just flashed his parts?" he asked The Gunner.

The Gunner, who had shifted chairs in order to make room at the table for Nicholas and André, and was now sitting with his back to the window, glanced at Dave. "No."

Dave growled something under his breath and stalked out of the restaurant.

"What's he doing?" asked The Gunner.

Nicholas glanced out the window. "He's saying something to Tyler and Val. The others are listening. I think he's giving them hell and wants them to clear the pool."

"Persistent little bugger, isn't he?" growled Chef, who was hungry and studying a menu.

André stood up and looked past The Gunner's shoulder. He grinned and then gave a very Gallic shrug. C'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas la guerre." He sat down and took a huge slurp of his Coke.

"I beg your pardon?" asked David.

"Dave's fucked," rumbled Chef from behind the menu.

The Gunner turned around to watch the show.

"I guess no one told him what they did to Tyler when he went into his 'I'm the Chief and you're the Indians' mode," said Nicholas, as if he had not participated in the Master at Arms' depantsing.

David Clayton looked quizzically at the others.

"They stripped him naked and threw him into the Barracks yard," explained Nicholas.

"Oh!"

******

Dave had come roaring down the poolside and stopped in front of Tyler and Val. " . . . and I haven't been groped that many times since Goody Ladbrook cornered me in the showers after the . . ." Tyler was saying to Val when Dave came up.

"Chief Benbow!" interrupted Dave.

"Sir?"

"Let's clear the pool, Chief," ordered Dave.

"But, Sir, we have free time until 1800," said Val.

"Too bad, Chief. Half of them . . ." he waved his arm toward the Twins and the Makee-Learns, " . . . are naked. There are civilians looking at them!"

Which was true, sort of. The girls were teasing Sylvain, waving his white Speedos at him. They did not seem all that concerned about what was going on in the other end of the pool. Stuart and Steve, splashing water and laughing at having eluded the Twins, climbed out of the pool. Harry and Greg, towels firmly wrapped around their waists, were wandering about looking for Harry's swimming costume. They all overheard Dave.

"Ah, come on, Dave, they're not showing anything," said Val. He grinned, trying to make light of the situation. "It's just the Twins, and you know what they're like and the Makee . . ."

"Chief Orsini, I am an officer and I want the pool cleared."

Val glanced at Tyler, who looked up at Harry and Greg, who grinned and looked at Stuart and Steve, who looked down at The Twins, who nodded in unison.

In the restaurant Nicholas saw the looks. A telepathic message seemed to have been passed. "Uh, oh!" whispered Nicholas.

The Gunner did not dare look.

Harry, Greg, Stuart and Steve pounced on the unsuspecting and hapless officer. Before he knew it Dave was flying through the air and into the waiting clutches of the Twins and two eager Makee-Learns.

David Clayton stood up and watched as the water roiled and boiled and clothing began flying through the air. "You're right, Chef, he's fucked."

"Told ya." Chef turned to Nicholas. "The seafood platter looks good. How about you and André helping me with it?"

"It looks like he got away," said David to no one in particular. "He's swimming like a mad thing toward the other end of the pool."

"Now he's really fucked. Sylvain is on heat," giggled André. "Are there prawns on the platter?"

"If he got away they let him. They strip him?" asked The Gunner reaching for the menu. "The beef is supposed to be good here."

David sat down and reached for his beer. "No, they left his underwear on."

"Boxers of briefs?" asked Chef.

At that moment Stuart pulled open the door to the restaurant and they all heard a loud chorus of shrieks and giggles from the far end of the pool.

"Briefs," replied David Clayton. "Tight . . . white . . . briefs. Can I see a menu?"

******

"You look tired, Phantom," said The Gunner as he manoeuvred the Rover around the last of the long line of buses that were taking the cadets back to AURORA.

The Phantom nodded and yawned. "I am, a little. All that swimming, then that dinner!"

The Gunner chuckled. "We'll be home soon and as soon as we do your paperwork for the UNTD we'll go to bed."

The Phantom's hand crept over and caressed The Gunner's thigh. "But not right to sleep," he said with a smile.

"I don't know. I mean after the act you put on this morning . . ."

The Phantom squirmed a bit. "I'm sorry, Gunner, really. But, well, I was angry!"

The Gunner smiled and nodded. "I know you were. But, Phantom you must control your temper. If you're going to be an officer you have got to learn to control your emotions."

"I know," sighed The Phantom. "It's just that I can't understand how anyone would let things get them down so bad that they'd kill themselves. I can't understand a guy just giving up."

The Gunner looked at The Phantom and shook his head slowly. If only you knew, he thought. "Phantom, you must try to understand that some people simply cannot take the rejection, the total isolation from their families, being ostracized by their so-called friends. They lose their jobs, their homes, everything. And once they have the label, it's with them for life! They know what the straight world thinks of them and all they see is a black void ahead of them."

"But damn it, Gunner, to kill yourself for being something you can't help being. That's not right and it's sure as hell not fair!" The Phantom moved over to sit as close as he could to The Gunner. He laid his head on The Gunner's shoulders.

"And the hatred," murmured The Phantom. "Dear God, the hatred."

The Gunner put his arm around The Phantom's shoulders. "It's been like that for over eight hundred years. It will go on for another eight hundred years."
"Eight hundred years?"

The Gunner nodded. "The Ancient Greeks encouraged men and boys to be togethe