Chapter 5½ Bonus

Since time waiting for a new chapter can be rather long. I proposed to write some small bonus chapters in between. Those will focus on characters or events not essential to the story but that we think worth some exposure.
This is the first one. It was to be a small one, five pages. That was the length of what I wrote. But after Cole's comments and eXm's writing it grew to 17, with quite a few renders from Conradin. It refers to a paragraph in chapter 6 where Anthony recalls succinctly his Sunday. Here you'll get all the details.
It was also an important test for us. An evolution in the way we will be working in the future. The material I gave eXm to work on, this time, was not a synopsis but a fully written text. I was afraid it would diminish his freedom and input and, in fact, he was rather reticent at first. But finally it worked rather well to everyone's satisfaction.
One of the goal of the new method is to work faster and post chapters more often. We will know if we are successful in the next few months.
I am at the moment writing chapter 18. The more I write, the longer the chapters become. All are done more or less extensively now except for 7 and 8. I should get to them shortly.
eXm will start work on chapter 6 when he has finished writing Moss next chapter. Hopefully soon. Encourage him, it might help.
And now enjoy.
As usual thanks to the team!
Diablo

At the insistence of the boys, Thorvald agreed to take them to Six Flags Over Georgia immediately after breakfast was finished. He had hoped to enjoy them more intimately that morning, particularly Milo, whom he had yet to go all the way with, but he decided that he could delay that until after their return to the mansion later that afternoon.

He had Max make a couple of calls to the recreation park so that everything would be ready when they arrived. The flight would take just under an hour in his new Eurocopter X4, which was capable of achieving three hundred knots. When he gave the good news to the boys, they were quite exited and were once again the best of friends.

Once Max had made the announcement that everything was prepared, Thorvald, Milo, and Anthony took a five minute golf cart ride to the small heliport that was situated behind the mansion. Two helicopters sat there, the older one being a Bell 206 Jet Ranger, and his latest toy; the bigger, sleeker looking X4. The boys seemed to be gripped with awe as they stared wide-eyed at the two helicopters; perhaps they were thinking that the trip was going to be just as exciting as the rides at Six Flags.

Thorvald would have preferred to have Milo seated at the front with him, maybe sitting upon his knees, but he had promised Anthony the pilot's seat ride, knowing that the boy needed his attention. He was sure that something had gone wrong between Anthony and Greg during the night, and he had to do his best to fix it. Like Carl Fisher, he knew that he was always at the mercy of a boy that might talk too much, or talk to the wrong people. An angry boy could very well do just that, and once the story was out, it would be very difficult to subdue it. Such a thing had happened once before and only his influence and money had saved them. He did not want to endure that experience again. He trusted Anthony, and was mostly sure that the boy wouldn't expose him, but he thought that it was always better to be safe than sorry.

While the boys crawled around on the X4 and marveled at it, Ivor went through his checklist. Max had already gone through it, but Thorvald never started the helo until he had double-checked everything himself. First, he looked over the engine, then the oil and fuel levels, the rotor blades, the skids, belts, battery, clutch cable, and the lights. Then, he crawled into the cockpit and ran down the startup procedures. Once everything looked good, he placed his headset on and opened the fuel lines.

"Hey Milo," he said, motioning to the boy, "come here."

Milo stepped onto the landing skid and poked his head into the cabin. Thorvald would let Anthony ride in the pilot's seat first, but Ivor just had to let Milo start the vehicle.

"See this button?"

"Yes," Milo answered as he followed Ivor's finger.

"Press it."

Licking his lips in anticipation, Milo reached across Ivor's lap and pressed the yellow button. The engines began to howl as it warmed up, quietly at first, and then growing louder. Ivor looked out the canopy and waved Anthony in. The boy opened the passenger cabin door and crawled in, sitting beside Ivor. Milo walked around the front of the helicopter and sat beside Anthony, shutting the door behind him.

Ivor handed the boys helmets with a built-in headset, and they put them on. After making sure that both boys were buckled in, Milo nudged Anthony and pointed to another button, which Anthony pressed. The rotors began to spin above them, and the boys looked up through the greenhouse windows at the spinning blades, unable to keep the exhilaration from showing upon their faces.

"Okay boys," Ivor spoke into his headset, "here we go!"

Ivor lifted the collective lever on his left, and the rotors began to lean forward. The cabin started to shake a little, and then they began to lift into the air. Beside him, the boys squealed with delight. Ivor smiled inwardly, ah, the joys of youth. Once they were hovering a few feet in the air, Ivor pressed down on the left anti-torque pedal and the helicopter slowly began to rotate to the right. They continued to lift as Ivor eased off the pedal, and as he pushed the cyclic pitch control forward, they were off.

After the first five minutes of flight, Ivor readjusted his seat and invited a delighted Anthony to sit between his knees and have his first flying lesson. The boy listened attentively to Thorvald's instructions, and then put his hands under Ivor's on the pitch control. The man gave him some time to get the feel of it, guiding him for simple maneuvers, and answering his questions. Then Ivor pulled his hands away and settled them close by on the boy's thighs, leaving Anthony in charge. It lasted for almost twenty minutes, which seemed very short to the thrilled boy. The weather was perfect with close to no winds. In the end, Ivor was quite satisfied to share the experience with Anthony, who was intelligent and easygoing, and knew how to please him in more ways than one.

When they reached the theme park, they landed on a cleared area of the parking lot and Ivor began to shut the helo down. When everything was switched off, Ivor and the two boys left the cabin and headed toward the gates to the theme park. They were met by two attendants, Mark and Rose, who were there to cater to all of their desires. The attendants would clear the rides that they wanted to go on, point out the various attractions, and supply them with anything they wanted to drink or eat. Ivor and the boys received special VIP badges, and then they excitedly stepped into the park.

Anthony already knew the layout of the park and immediately began to voice his opinions about where to go, which rides were best, and which shows to catch. Of course, they had immediate VIP access, meaning there would be no lines for them to wait in, and they would always get the best seats. It also meant that they could go on any ride as many times as they wished. Ivor stayed with the two joy-filled boys, taking as much pleasure in their company as they did in the attractions. First up was Goliath, described by the park as a massive hypercoaster that drops you twenty stories at seventy miles per hour, and then drops you straight down before putting you into a 4G turn. Anthony went for the front row right away, while Milo was a bit hesitant. From the way the boy looked up at the thing, it appeared as though he wasn't sure that was where he wanted to sit. Thorvald of course, had ridden this beast on prior trips with Anthony and others, so he knew that it could be intimidating the first time.

"Okay, okay," Anthony said as he glanced back at Milo, "we'll sit further back, but just the first time around. Trust me, after you give it a try, you'll want to sit up front."

Milo slid into a seat a little farther back from the front, and Anthony and Ivor joined him. Once they were buckled securely inside, the ride operator gave them a thumbs-up and pressed a button on his control pad, releasing the brakes and moving the rollercoaster forward. It was a long climb up the track, straight towards the sky. Anthony had his hands up, and he goaded Milo as he looked over at the nervous boy.

"Come on, hands up!" Anthony urged.

Milo appeared a little scared, but adopting a false look of bravado, he put his hands up as well. The front of the coaster crested the top, and then quickly started to pick up speed. The boys were still sitting with their backs pressed into their seats and could see only blue sky. Suddenly the ground came back into view, and Milo let out an exhilarated, "holy shit," as a quick flash of light of the on-ride camera took their picture. The view down twenty stories wasn't the same as it was looking up.

The boys felt their backsides leave their seats as the straps held them to the car. Both boys instinctively dropped their arms and grabbed onto the safety bar tightly. The ground came up fast, giving the impression that they were going to crash into it. Then they hit the second drop, straight down. There was a feeling of weightlessness and a fluttering of butterfly wings in their stomachs as the boys held on for dear life. The 4G turn changed everything as it pushed them back hard into their seat. The skin on their faces was pushed back as the air rushed past, and they felt wild and alive.

The remainder of the ride wasn't so bad, a few sharp twists and turns, and a few bunny hops that left their stomachs hovering twenty feet above the ground. Finally, the coaster slowed heading into a stop in the station. Once they were back to the relative safety of the earth, the boys wobbled over to the souvenir stand to look at their picture. They both erupted into a fit of giggles when it appeared on the screen.

"You look like you're about to shit your pants!" Anthony said, doubling over with laughter.

"You grabbed the bar too, chicken." Milo shot back with a chuckle.

Both boys laughed and wrapped their arms around each other's shoulders. There were still many attractions to ride and much more fun to be had.

"Ok Milo, let's go on another one, but we're riding in the front row this time."

Milo's face gave him away; he wasn't ready yet, and this ride didn't do anything to help with that. He would prefer a safer ride, but also didn't want Anthony to think he was a wimp.

Anthony, at this point, had somewhat forgotten the past night with Greg. His excitement and enjoyment were at full peak. Nevertheless, as they went from one ride to the next, some of his resentment began creeping back into his young brain. It had been a brief time of bliss, but Ivor, as time went by, was beginning to neglect him again somewhat. The man seemed to be totally seduced and captivated by the newer, younger, Milo.

Milo himself was not completely innocent in their intense and frequent interactions. Touching, holding hands, fluctuating between laughter and speaking together in hushed tones, it seemed to any outsider to be the perfect father and son outing, as long as you did not notice the furtive kisses and caresses, the clandestine fondling that would happen when not within sight of others.

It was clear to Anthony that Milo was the star of this show, and he himself was merely a side attraction. He noticed Ivor's occasional effort to take him into account and please him from time to time, but the attention he received had felt forced. Obviously, Thorvald's true interest lay with the other boy. Anthony had been shaken by the events of the previous evening, and was trying to tuck those feelings away for now and concentrate on the fun, but the thoughts kept coming back again and again. Had it not been for that terrible night, Anthony would certainly have contented himself with all that was offered to him, which was a lot – certainly more than any normal boy could possibly dream of.

Milo, on the other hand, had decided to win Thorvald over and get invited to the mansion as often as possible in the future. He was not ignorant when it came to beautiful cars, expensive houses, and luxurious vacations; his parents had money too, and he knew well enough that these were things that many boys his age would often dream about. But the older man provided him with something else, feelings that were new to Milo; feelings of power and importance. Milo really felt different from all the ordinary, everyday people, far above them, in fact. He relished the grand treatment. To feel special, looked at, singled out; this was exactly how he felt now and had since they had arrived at the theme park. He could feel all the eyes of those common people fixed directly upon him, as they stepped aside to let him pass. To Milo, this was exhilarating.

Something special had clicked between Milo and Thorvald…rather Ivor. Milo had felt it when they had been left alone and he had been questioned about how he felt, and how it had been with Greg. The attention Ivor poured upon him, the way in which he listened. Then there was that treasure trove of costumes, which Milo enjoyed combing through, and then putting on an exhibition for Ivor. The way Ivor's eyes soaked up his body, the feel of his tender touches as his fingers gently caressed his skin. Milo was growing confident now that Ivor would be won over before the end of that wonderful day, if he wasn't already so. It had all come together for Milo; Ivor was clearly smitten with him. And yes, he was definitely ready to secure as many visits as he could with the older gentleman.

Thorvald was fighting a losing battle within himself; he had been for at least the last hour. All he could think about was tearing off Milo's few clothes and taking him; using the boy in all the known ways, and perhaps some unknown ways as well. Ivor's thoughts raced and darted about. He wanted to use Milo's mouth, his ass, thighs, feet, armpits, and belly; he wanted to revel in them and plant his seed everywhere. He had thoughts of his semen splattering across the boy's face and dripping off those rosy lips. Images flashed across his brain of the boy's bare chest, coated with cum, droplets of ivory semen staining those creamy thighs, soaking those bare pits, and spraying over the soft belly where it would collect into a tiny pool of sperm in the adorable little belly button.

It had been years since Ivor had been so infatuated by a boy. It was not that he lacked for boys in those years; quite the opposite, he had two or three "young servants" at his disposal in the mansion at all times. During his trips for business or vacation, Max always came through and provided more wherever he went.

Then there were the St. Xavier boys – these were the best, because they were not paid for sex. They were well-educated boys, many of them rather rich and coming from good families. They came to him of their own free will, and Ivor had to play at seducing these boys and see if he could get them to go further. Well, in fact it wasn't exactly like that, they were Carl's boys and came because Carl sent them, and for what they were told he had to offer them. Occasionally, there was the boy who did come for raw sex, and he didn't disappoint them, but it was the seduction game that Ivor enjoyed the most. Yet to Ivor, there was something more, something different in Milo.

Ivor's grooming seemed to have worked very well with Milo. Ivor wanted him badly; he had to have the boy now. He would never be able to wait until they got back to the mansion! Trying to pilot the helo with the boy on his knees in this state would be out of the question. Asking the park for a private place for an hour or two with the boys would be too compromising. A sudden arrival at a nearby hotel in the helicopter would also be too risky. No, he needed some relief right now. Then they could prepare their return trip to the mansion. They had been here at the theme park for over five hours now; he thought the boys would accept his petition for an early departure. Suddenly, Anthony returned to his mind. He had completely forgotten about poor Anthony and the attention the boy needed. He had been so caught-up with Milo; he had to redress that.

Errors often come from the best intentions. Ivor decided to solve both problems in the same manner. He quietly asked Anthony to join him in the restroom that was next to the arcade. He planned to achieve his relief while showing his enduring interest in the boy. After asking Milo to stand just inside the door and keep an eye out, Ivor took Anthony into one of the tiny stalls and locked the door.

The minute the latch was thrown, Ivor began to kiss and grope the boy all over his tender young body. Anthony, who had not been expecting such a fierce assault, allowed his instincts to take over and was soon in the right mood. Ivor could feel the boy's erection poking his thigh through the material of both of their pants. His own erection was jabbing Anthony in the stomach, just above the navel. Ivor wanted a fast relief, but he knew that he had to pay a little attention to Anthony if he was going to make things between them right again.

He coaxed Anthony to balance himself up on the toilet seat. The boy grabbed hold of the cubicle walls to steady himself while Ivor fumbled with the fly of the boy's pants. After unzipping them, he slid them and the boxer shorts down the boy's slender legs, then lifted first one foot and then the other to remove his clothes. Leaving the boy's shirt, shoes and socks on, he wadded up the pants and boxers and placed them upon the toilet paper dispenser before returning to his work.

Anthony's cock was stiff as a rock and pointing upwards, directly at Ivor's chin. It was pulsing slightly in anticipation of what was about to take place. As Ivor bent slightly to get at the right angle, he could smell the musk pouring from the boy's loins. It had been a rather hot afternoon, and the youth's penis fairly reeked of dried sweat and that sweet, youthful "penis" odor that was always so familiar.

As Ivor opened his mouth and took the rigid member into it, Anthony let out a deep, guttural moan above him. The man went to work immediately, running his tongue across the boy's penis as he bobbed his head. The sweet, salty taste of the kid's cocklet was almost enough to make Ivor cum right there. His hands drifted around until he had a butt cheek in each one, and he began to knead them like dough. When his finger brushed Anthony's anus, the boy gasped and moaned loudly.

From the door, Milo quickly cleared his throat, and then dashed across the room to the sink. A second later, the door squeaked as it was opened, and a man's heavy footsteps could be heard. Anthony ducked his head down the second the door had opened, and he was now bent over, his upper torso lying against the back of Ivor's neck and shoulders. Ivor froze with the boy's cocklet in his mouth as he listened intently.

The man walked to the urinals and unzipped his pants. A moment later, the sound of a urine stream splashing into the bottom of the porcelain filled the room. Milo turned on a sink and pretended to be washing his hands while the man took what seemed to Ivor to be the longest piss in history. Holy shit, he thought as his neck started to get sore from Anthony's weight, did you drink an entire gallon of soda?

After what seemed like an eternity, the man zipped his pants and flushed the urinal. He then walked across to the sinks and washed his hands. After using the blow drier that was mounted on the wall, the man finally left the restroom.

"He looked at me funny," Milo giggled as he returned to his post by the door, "I was washing my hands for so long that he probably thought I was OCD."

The coast now clear, Anthony popped his head back up above the cubicle wall, much to the relief of Ivor's neck. The man removed Anthony's cock from his mouth long enough to roll his neck across his shoulders. It made a loud cracking sound and instantly felt better. He then resumed sucking on the young boy's hardened cocklet.

Anthony moaned again and started to pump his hips, pushing himself in and out of Ivor's lips. Ivor swirled his tongue around the plump head, then stopped sucking again. He wrapped his hand around the boy's penis and squeezed it, rubbing it hard while he sucked the boy's balls into his mouth. He sucked on them for a moment while he jerked the boy off, then pulled them back out to explore further down.

He kissed the space where Anthony's ballsack met his body, then began to lick, sliding his tongue back and forth across the perineum. Anthony's scrotum lay upon his cheek, and his nose was buried between it and the side of Anthony's upper thigh. He inhaled the boy's musky scent as he pushed his face further and further, reaching closer towards the boy's bumhole with every lick. As his tongue finally flickered across the puckered anus, Anthony gasped loudly.

"I-I'm gonna cum," Anthony whimpered from above.

Before Ivor could remove his face from between the boy's legs, Anthony let out a loud moan and Ivor felt the boy's cocklet dancing wildly in his hand. He felt the warm cum as it spattered against his closed eyelid and forehead. Bringing his face away from Anthony, he opened his unspattered eye and saw the boy look down at him and giggle.

"Hehe, sorry, I couldn't hold it."

"It's quite alright," Ivor said with a smile as he brushed the cum off his face with a finger, "now it's my turn."

He licked the cum off his finger and stood up. Anthony hopped off the toilet and tried to bend over to take down Ivor's slacks, but the tiny stall was too crowded. Ivor ended up having to remove his pants and underwear and straddle the toilet while Anthony knelt in front of him, still nude from the waist down.

Anthony wrapped his child-sized fist around the man's rigid and impressive hard-on. Looking up at him, the boy smiled as he stroked it, first up to the very tip, then back down to the base. The sensation made Ivor moan quietly; the boy surely knew how to give a fulfilling handjob. Anthony winked up at him, then leaned forward and gingerly took the man into his warm, wet mouth. Anthony had just taken the head of Ivor's cock into his mouth, when Milo again cleared his throat from the restroom door and then dashed across to the sinks. Anthony had just enough time to stand up as the door squeaked open. Ivor looked down and realized that both his and Anthony's legs were visible from beneath the stall, which was raised about eighteen inches off the ground. Apparently, the newcomer noticed this, too.

"Lookit," said a young sounding voice, "there's two people in there!"

"Uhm…" Milo stammered, "Yeah, that's my dad and my brother."

"Why are they both in there together?"

"Well, my brother is handicapped, and my dad has to help him use the bathroom."

"Oh," said the boy, who then walked over to the urinals.

Anthony's face turned red as he stifled a giggle. Ivor silently mouthed the words "What's so funny?" to him, which made Anthony cover his mouth with his hands. Without warning, Anthony opened his mouth and let out a strange sounding groan.

"Ah'm okay, yaaaaaaaaaaaay!" Anthony said, doing his best Special Ed impersonation.

The boy finished peeing, and as he walked back towards the center of the room, Ivor got a small peek at him through the crack between the stall door and the frame. The boy was about nine or ten, blond, and cute as a button. Ivor stared at him wistfully; he would be a heartbreaker in a couple of years.

The boy took another glance at the dual-occupied stall, then turned and hurried out of the restroom without washing his hands. Milo dried his own and returned to his place at the door. Anthony erupted into gales of laughter as he knelt back down to resume the blowjob.

"Smartass," Ivor scolded, trying not to grin. Anthony settled down enough to inhale most of Ivor's cock. The boy had to deep throat it to fit that much in, and Ivor enjoyed the feeling of the soft palate as it squeezed around the head of his cock. The boy wrapped his hand around the part of Ivor's shaft that wasn't in his mouth and stroked it in time with the bobbing of his head, eliciting moans of pleasure from the man.

Ivor placed his hands on either side of Anthony's head and began to hump himself in and out of the boy's mouth unceremoniously. When he felt the youth's finger tickling around his hole, it was all over for Ivor. He pushed himself deep into the back of the boy's throat, and emptied his balls. He moaned loudly and removed his cock, leaving a string of semen leaking from between the boy's lips.

"You're the best Anthony; that was fantastic. Let's go now," Ivor said as they quickly dressed, "Milo's probably getting bored."

As they left the stall, the door once more opened and another young boy walked in, this one possibly around twelve or so. Whoops, Ivor thought as he glanced over at Anthony, who quickly wiped the cum from his mouth. Anthony gave the newcomer a sheepish grin, and then followed Milo and Ivor out the door, leaving the boy staring after them.

Thorvald was feeling better, and he threw his arm around Anthony's shoulder. His desire was far from extinguished, but for now, it was temporarily satisfied.

"Let's do one more ride and go home. Otherwise we won't have any energy left for what's awaiting for us there." He said as he winked at Milo and patted Anthony's firm bum.

"Two more rides;" Milo negotiated, "right Anthony?"

Anthony looked from Milo to Ivor and back, and nodded silently.

"Alright, alright, let's go then," said Ivor.

Ivor kept Anthony close to him the rest of the time they were in the park. He realized that he might have made a mistake in the restroom, and that the boy may have felt used rather than loved. Perhaps he should have paid more attention to Anthony instead of just blowing him. He would have to be more mindful in the future.

While they waited for their last ride, Ivor called Max to prepare for their return. The Goliath awaited them once again, only this time, they were going to ride in the front row. Milo had overcome his apprehension at some point, and was now excited about being first in line for the colossal roller coaster.

From then on, Ivor could easily see the contrast between the two boys, Milo, full of energy and excitement, and Anthony, who seemed to be rather quiet. The boy remained silent during the helo ride home, choosing to sit in the back looking out the window, while Milo sat up front on Ivor's lap, chatting away and showing his enthusiasm of using the controls under the man's supervision. He also shamelessly teased the man by pressing himself against him, his buttocks grinding on Ivor's near permanent erection.

As soon as they had touched down, Ivor suggested that they all relax in the pool for a bit. A few minutes later, the trio were stripping off their clothes and jumping, naked, into the crystal clear water.

Ivor was harder than ever, his tool waving around with the current and getting the undisputed attention of Milo. The man swam to the edge of the pool and pulled himself out, sitting at the edge of the pool with his legs dangling in the water. Without a word, Milo quickly swam over to him and went to work, engulfing as much of the large erection as he could. After a few minutes of pleasure, Ivor stopped him, pulled him out of the water, and laid the boy across his lap so that he could play around with the kid's ass and tight little hole.

"Does this bother you, Milo?"

"Nope, I like it," the boy cooed.

"I'm rather big; it might hurt you a bit."

"I know, don't worry, I've done it plenty times." Milo had turned half way so that they could look at each other eyes.

"Plenty, you're sure?"

"Enough, for sure," said Anthony, who had gotten closer.

The boy was treading water as he watched the two, curious to see how they would proceed and how it would go. He had done it with Ivor himself "plenty" of times, and he knew that it was not an easy fit.

Thorvald had his favorite habits for each boy's first fuck outside the mansion, which he now followed for Milo. He took the boy by the hand, led him to the large Jacuzzi, and turned on the water jets. There were cushions positioned on one side of the Jacuzzi, and a small cabinet within reach. After they slid into the burbling hot water, Ivor opened the cabinet and took out a tube of KY jelly.

He pulled the boy close to him and kissed him while he began to play with the kid's hole, trying to stretch it a bit. Beneath the foamy water, Milo played with his cock, squeezing the tip slightly, and then stroking it up and down with both hands. Then, Ivor maneuvered the boy half out of the water and comfortably onto his stomach on the cushions, with his soft round cheeks and tight little hole well exposed. Bending over the boy, he lowered his face to the kid's backend and inhaled deeply.

First, Ivor began to work the boy's anus with his mouth, rimming around the wrinkled skin and pushing his tongue inside. Then, he removed his tongue and replaced it with two of his lubed fingers. He found the boy's prostate and rubbed it softly, eliciting a positive response from the kid. Obviously, Milo was very appreciative of the man's ministrations, as he emitted small moans of pleasure from time to time and stretched his limbs, arching his back like a cat.

Ivor pictured himself as a true lover of boys. He had found ways to satisfy his needs, as well as theirs. It was all morally disputable, of course, but at the same time, he knew the risks. He didn't want them to feel any pain, discomfort or unease. He never imposed any sexual activity, well, at least not most of it. If things did not work out the way he wished, he did not insist or use coercion; he preferred to seduce the boys and allow them to make their own decisions. A few boys had left the mansion after a simple weekend of fun and had chosen not to return. Ivor missed them, but it was their decision.

The rented houseboys, however, were another story entirely. For these, Ivor was never directly involved in the recruitment or training process, but he always tried to ensure that they accepted their part and had as good a life as possible in that context. It was hypocritical, for sure, but the only acceptable way for him.

Ivor had enjoyed and tasted many different types of boys over the years, and found there were very few he disliked. Over time, He had learned how to make anal intercourse as enjoyable an experience as it could be for the boys. It took lots of time and effort, but Ivor was convinced that it was both the right way to do it, and the best way to have the boys willing to come back for more. He knew that some loved it, while others only did it to please him or to get something from him. Boys were not the innocent angels described by many; that he knew very well, too.

The foreplay went on for thirty minutes. Anthony seemed to grow bored watching the other two, and perhaps feeling left out again. He went back to swimming and would throw an occasional glance at them now and then. He came back, however, when things started to get more serious, looking for a good show from the two. He seemed to be divided, caught between wanting Milo and Ivor to have fun together, and secretly hoping that the man's entry brought at least a little pain to the boy. Anthony felt Milo had done everything he could to be Thorvald's chosen boy this weekend, and he seemed to have succeeded in supplanting him as the man only had eyes for Milo now.

When Ivor felt that the boy's hole was loose enough, he removed his fingers and stood up. The tip of his cock throbbed slightly in anticipation as he moved himself into position above the exposed anus. He adjusted himself and placed the tip of his cock at the entrance. He could feel the boy's pulse against the head of his prick as he slowly pressed himself against the youth's hole. After asking if Milo was ready, he had the boy slowly slide back into the water. The pressure on Milo's anus coming from the boy's own weight at first. Then, from Ivor who carefully started pushing upwards and into the kid's rectum.

"Wow, it feels so big," Milo squeaked.

"Yes, it is," Ivor replied. "Are you ready, love?"

"Mhmm."

Ivor gently held the boy in place as he gave a slow and steady push forward, feeling the hole loosening around the shaft of his cock. The boy shuddered beneath him and gave a small sigh of pain.

"I'm in. Milo, you're doing great, now relax and push out, it will make it easier."

Steadily, Ivor began to thrust forward while letting the boy's body slide further down until the kid's smooth backside was immersed beneath the bubbling water. He knew that this would have a soothing effect and helps alleviate any pain or discomfort the boy might feel.

Nearby, Anthony was watching them while he played with himself. He studied their faces and expressions as he tried to emulate their feelings. The sight of the two having intercourse had a strong erotic power over him, and he rubbed himself ever more frantically.

It took twenty more minutes for Ivor to get enough of his thick meat inside so that he could start the real fucking. He stood up again and put the boy back on the cushions, enjoying the soft feel of the boy's delicate skin, the supple flesh under his fingers. The position and angle were perfect and after testing the boy's compliance with a few more jabs, he started pumping in and out trying to gain a few more inches. "Ah, sweet Jesus, Milo, you feel so good. How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay. It kinda hurt at first, but not so much anymore. It feels a little strange, though, I've never had one so big before."

Ivor slowed himself down and leaned forward, planting a kiss between the boy's wet shoulder blades.

"I'm going to cum soon, and I want to look at your beautiful face as it happens. Here, can you turn around and get on your back, baby?"

Milo nodded, and Ivor gently slid his cock free from the tight hole, moving slowly so as not to hurt the boy. He kissed the boy's neck, and then helped him roll over into position. Once Milo was settled down and comfortable, Ivor guided the boy's legs onto his shoulders, and then leaned over him and used his hand to guide his cock towards the child's anus, pressing the tip against the wrinkled hole.

"Anthony, can you come here please?"

As Anthony climbed out of the pool, Ivor once again pushed himself into the boy, feeling the tightness of the boy's anus as it swallowed his rock hard cock. Again, he moved slowly and steadily to keep any pain to a minimum.

Once he was fully inside and Anthony was standing over them, Ivor had him lie down beside Milo. He resumed his thrusting, slowly at first, then picking up speed while he kissed them, first Milo, then Anthony. His hand wandered across Anthony's smooth body until it found the boy's stiffening cocklet. He wrapped his hand around the smooth young rod and started to rub it up and down, matching the speed of his thrusts into Milo.

Within a matter of minutes, Ivor felt the orgasm building in his loins. His hand froze on Anthony's erection and squeezed it while his own cock began to pulse. Through slit eyes, he looked down into Milo's beautiful face, staring into the boy's alluring blue-green eyes. As the waves of pleasure washed over his body, Ivor moaned loudly, and then clamped his mouth down over Milo's, burying his tongue in the child's mouth. His moans of pleasure muffled as the orgasm peaked.

Beside them, Anthony sighed in a high-pitched voice, and Ivor felt the boy's cocklet throb in his hand, then he felt the warmth of the youth's cum as it ran down his clenched fingers. After Ivor had pumped all his seed into Milo, he gently pulled himself out and lay down between the two marvelous young creatures, panting slightly, and embracing them both in his strong arms for a well-deserved rest.

"It's getting late," said Ivor as he stretched his arms, "I think you should have dinner here. Max will take you back to the school afterwards."

The boys did not refuse. They had been lying together in the hot tub and talking for the last half hour. Ivor was becoming hard again; despite his age, he could become aroused quickly and often without having to resort to Viagra, the way Carl Fisher had to.

"Before you guys eat, I'm ready for another quickie. Who wants it first?"

Both boy's arms shot up into the air as they volunteered enthusiastically. In an attempt to correct his recent mistakes, Ivor chose Anthony first, and did a somewhat rushed yet satisfying fuck, allowing Anthony to orgasm without having one himself. After a few passionate kisses, he resumed his lovemaking with Milo; this time, it worked almost magically.

Due to the previous loosening up, entry was easy and natural this time around, with almost all of his large cock sliding neatly inside. The rhythm was fast and intense as the man made contact with the boy's prostate with each and every thrust. It was a rare feat for Ivor, who felt the boy's muscles tense and squeeze his manhood every time he drove himself into the boy's rectum. They were both rewarded handsomely; Milo with a string of multiple dry orgasms, while Ivor experienced two orgasms back to back. But the final run was to last for quite some time before he could cum again; letting both partners share in those wonderful feelings that were to bring them even closer together.

Anthony understood he was no match for Milo, and he finally accepted it. Before the two lovers were done, he had climbed out of the Jacuzzi and left them alone, going to the game room to wait for dinner. It was Milo who came to fetch him, just before seven that evening.

"Anthony, you there? Dinner is ready."

"Almost done," said Anthony, "I'm nearly finished with the single player mode."

"Wow, you're good."

Milo watched in silence for a few minutes while Anthony took out snipers in the game.

"You're not angry, are you?" He asked timidly, "I kind of took your place this weekend."

"No," answered Anthony, "I'm not …at least, not with you. You did right; that was the deal, Ivor is a good man and I think you made his day."

"Yeah, I feel great with him. I sure hope that I can come back soon."

"Don't worry, you will. He'll make sure of that. I might come back too, as long as Greg doesn't show up. He's a monster, you should avoid him."

"Yeah, I didn't like the way he treated us yesterday."

Anthony missed a shot in the video game, which alerted the enemy team to his presence. He swore under his breath as a hail of automatic rifle fire took out his character. The continue screen popped up, and he pressed "No" and set the controller down.

"That was nothing. Believe me, you don't know him, and it's better if it stays that way."

"I thought Greg was a great guy, he seemed okay at school."

"No, you're wrong. He's not a nice guy at all. Come on, let's go get something to eat, I'm done playing this game."

Still both naked, the duo bounded down the stairs and joined Ivor in the kitchen. Anthony was still having strong feelings about what had happened the previous night, and with good reason. He still trusted Thorvald, but he didn't want to return if it meant that Greg would be here. Encouraged by his talk with Milo, he finally spilled his guts at dinner. He told Ivor all about his fears, his terrible experience at the hands of Greg, and his now deep-seated hatred for the prefect.

Ivor listened in silence. He had never suspected the extent of Greg's sickness; it was a real problem, and one that would be difficult to solve. The prefect was pivotal in the club workings and activities, and more importantly, Ivor knew of the close relationship that linked Greg to Carl. Ivor did not want to give Anthony false promises, so he remained vague in his answers. He saw the disappointment in the boy's eyes, but for now, he could offer nothing better. Too much was at stake.

When they had finished dining, Ivor presented each of his guests with a gold ankle bracelet as a parting gift. Both boys were pleased and promised to wear them the next time they visited the mansion – Milo more so because of his kinky side, knowing that he had pleased the man so much. He insisted on trying it on right away to see how it looked.

Ivor thought that it looked lovely on him, and hurried to the study for his digital camera so that he could take a few pictures of the boy posing lasciviously. He then asked Anthony to join Milo for a few poses as well, and then he warned them not to show or wear them at Saint Xavier since the anklets might cause unnecessary questions with the staff members and the other students at the school. The boys, now dressed, headed towards the waiting limousine. Ivor taking this last moment to soak up the beauty of the boys as they stood by the back door saying their goodbyes. Before climbing into the backseat, Ivor promised he would have them visit again as soon as possible. Milo's face lit up, but the pain Ivor had seen earlier on Anthony was evident and continued to weigh on him. He felt responsible for what Greg had done, and couldn't resist blurting out, "I promise Greg will not be invited back." This put a smile on Anthony that warmed Ivor's heart.

Ivor wanted to have them back as soon as the next weekend, as long as his affairs permitted. The flu thing was a real worry; Ivor had already lost a lot in the China crisis and it was far from over. With luck, he would have more intel about it the following day.

Chapter 6

Miles Dunn woke up with a smile on his face. He would have gladly lingered in that dream if he could, but the annoying BEEP BEEP of the cheap alarm clock tore him from it. The dream was still vivid in his mind and he was struggling to keep it alive and not let it slip away to the Land of Nod, that place where all forgotten dreams went. In this particular dream, Miles was back at the soccer field watching the Eagles and Bears dueling each other for possession of the ball. He was seated in the bleachers, surrounded on both sides by boys.

Two of the boys flanked him on either side, leaning up against him. His hands were resting in their laps, each one fondling a hairless cocklet. The sun was high in the sky, and there was a gentle breeze that blew over them softly. Anthony, wearing a soccer uniform, was the boy on his left, while Sven was on his right, wearing nothing more than a loose speedo. A third boy knelt between his legs, looking up at him and sensually licking his lips while his hand fiddled around inside his shorts. The boy's face wasn't immediately recognizable; could it be Bob? Maybe Matthew or Johnny? Miles wasn't quite sure anymore.

One thing he did remember was that the dream had been devoid of any anxiety or guilt. Everything had felt so natural, so gentle. The dream rather reflected his mood as he woke up that morning.

He had survived that first week, something that provided him with a feeling of great relief. Being surrounded by real boys at all times had been rather beneficial in the end. He no longer felt obsessed by the virtual image of a more or less perfect boy, but had been confronted by real life boys made of flesh and bone, each with their own individual smells, laughs and shouts, smiles and smirks, their varied shapes, different hair colors and skin tones… and Miles truly loved it all. His urges and desires were still there, but he seemed to have them well under control. A kind of peace had settled over him. Being almost constantly immersed in that boyish environment had not awakened the monster that he feared was hidden deep inside him. On the contrary, he had discovered a multitude of feelings for these boys; they were no longer just sexual objects to be pursued and used.

Miles no longer felt fidgety or on his guard whenever a boy was present. This job could easily become not only the best job he had ever held, but possibly the best time he ever had. Of course, he needed to satisfy his fantasies every night when he was alone in his room or while showering, and he still held on to certain secret hopes, but he didn't want to dwell on them. Anthony's case was not resolved, and there may be a new emerging mystery worth Miles' attention: that sweet boy Sven…

His job still came first. Caution was still very much on his agenda, but the leash seemed less tight around his neck. His fears that every adult at the school would instantly read his true inner thoughts had been dispelled, and thus he was able to get himself into the swing of things and actually enjoy himself.

As Miles slipped out from between the sheets and prepared himself for his morning wank in the shower, he thought about the work that awaited him that day. He was almost done reviewing his predecessor's files, and had almost finished his first round of interviews. Greg Sutton's interview was next on the agenda, and Miles had a feeling that it would be an interesting one indeed.

***

Greg had been curious about the new security guy since his arrival, and he was looking forward to finally meeting the man face to face. He knew that Mister Dunn was ex-military, tough, and was already digging around and asking too many questions. Carl believed that Miles could become a threat to the club, and that meant an end to the freedom that Greg enjoyed with the other boys, and the power he held over them. The previous security guy had always been more interested in the bottle and keeping his job, facts that made him a patsy here at the school. This new guy could be a challenge, and Greg had to meet that challenge head on, the way he always did.

Greg wanted to impress the guy right away and to show him who he was dealing with, a senior prefect with many strong connections here at the school. He knew that Carl had his back covered, and if he brought along some of his friends, this guy would know he wasn't someone to be meddled with. For this reason, Greg had asked a few of his friends to come with him to the door and make their presence known. Omar, Lewis, and Sam had quickly agreed.

That morning at breakfast he had learned that Anthony, that little shit, had not listened to his warnings and had spilled his guts to Thorvald and later, to Carl. It didn't bother him that Anthony did that, but there would certainly need to be some retribution. Greg would begin working on that soon enough. For now, he had bigger fish to fry.

It had been an exceptional weekend; his mind kept taking him back to that last night at the mansion when he had gone further than he ever had before. He had loved every moment of it, especially the thrill he felt when the boy was out cold, as he was free to do anything he wished with the boy's body. Then the fear in the kid's eyes when he woke up, quickly replaced by terror as Greg put the bag over his head again. The shaking and muffled sounds, the frantic efforts to free himself from this life or death struggle, Greg got an unbelievable adrenaline rush from it all; the endorphins racing through his veins straight to his brain had created an incredible euphoria that he had to experience again, and soon.

That past Sunday with his family had been nice too, but nowhere close to what he had experienced with Anthony. A seventeen-year-old cousin had been visiting from France, a pretty thing named Claire. Greg had easily wooed her, and they spent the entire afternoon in his room doing the whole Kamasutra thing, well, at least all the sex positions. Claire was no virgin when it came to sex, but she was new to sodomy, so she was at least a virgin in that sense.

Still, Greg had to hold back the entire time, going in with care, pausing, and forever adding more lube. He had to constantly check to be sure she was ok with it, since he couldn't risk having her screaming and alerting everyone in the house. The thrill and excitement just wasn't there. Yeah, he had ejaculated a whole bunch of times; she knew how to take his load in her mouth and elsewhere, and being on the pill, there weren't any worries there either, but it just wasn't the same.

Yes, he had to do it again with Anthony, or maybe some other boy… or girl, it didn't matter. He had to find some way to do the things he wanted without thinking about any consequences, even to go all the way, damn whatever happened to the boy. There had been a moment the other night when that thought had crossed his mind, but that was too much, even for him. He was not quite ready, yet, and it was not the right place either. He was still thinking about it when he knocked on Mr. Dunn's door, wearing a charming smile on his face and maybe just a slight bulge in his slacks, certainly normal for a teenager.

***

"Hi, you must be Greg Stilson, come in and have a seat." Miles said, and then seeing the boys aggregated by the door added, "I'm sorry, but your friends will have to leave now."

The boys did not turn and leave, but turned their eyes to Greg for confirmation as to what to do. After a momentary pause, Greg turned his head slightly towards them, and with a small nod, the boys departed. Miles could feel the boy's dominant presence in the room; it was clear that Greg was in charge and commanded respect from the other boys. Miles observed this interaction between the boys, and instantly knew that Greg was the one he wanted, needed, to complete his investigation.

"Make yourself comfortable, it won't be long. I just want to get to know you a little better and I have a few things I was hoping you could help me with."

"Thank you, I'll try my best to help."

Greg had a self-assured composure; his well-honed teenage body was dressed and groomed in a manner that would make any girl swoon with ecstasy. He was the boy they dreamed about bringing home to their mother, a boy who would cause any mother's heart to skip a beat.

As Greg sat down, he made direct eye contact with Miles, his lustrous blue eyes piercing into Miles in a manner that momentarily unsettled him. He sat straight in the chair, folding his hands together, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, and then leaned slightly forward, never losing direct eye contact.

"I know you have a leadership position here at the school, Greg, can I call you Greg?"

"Yes, Mister Dunn, that's no problem."

"Good. So it seems you have quite a following here in the school as well, other students look up to you."

"Yes, I am a senior prefect."

"Good, so, you probably know everything that goes on here, someone in your position, and respected the way you are."

"Well, I do keep in touch with the other students, it is part of my duties, you know, to help them out."

"Great, then I'm sure you're aware that there have been a few incidents lately, like that runaway boy, some vandalizing, and a string of bullying."

"Yes, I'm aware of those things, we often discuss them during our prefect meetings."

"Can you tell me anything about them?"

"Not anything more than what is in the reports that were shared with us."

"Really, nothing more… the boys must talk to you, tell you things that don't make it into the report."

"We talk, mostly trying to guess who it is, and how much more the faculty knows and is not sharing with us. Do you know something that wasn't shared at our prefect meetings, Mister Dunn?"

"Well, for one thing, your name seems to come up a lot in each of these incidents… any reason why that might be?"

"Again, I'm a senior prefect, I'm alerted each time something happens. It's my duty to help investigate; it should all be there in the reports."

Miles had already reviewed them all, but now he made a visual effort of scouring over them with the prefect watching, looking for contradictions or new elements, all of which was in vain.

Greg was smart and spoke with a demeanor that only the best lawyers had. His answers deflecting any suspicion directed at him with a great ability to respond to every question with another one. Miles had to admit that the kid was good. He knew that he had to try another tactic; he would have to unnerve Greg, because right now, Greg was unflappable.

"Tell me Greg, do you have any enemies here at the school?"

"Honestly, there might be a few, with my position, but they'll never dare show it."

"Why is that?"

"Hmm, good question, Mister Dunn. I can't be sure, though. There could be some jealousy, of course. I'd say if I did have any enemies, it would be those I reported for small infractions, there were a few. Some of the younger students who fear I'd report them, if I knew for sure that they were the ones vandalizing the school.

"As we saw already, there was that Sven kid that I heard was involved, he is a friend of the senator's boy, William Forest. Maybe you should look that way. I think the culprits are from the junior grades, not seniors. All of the incidents have been petty, probably a few of the younger students that got bored or wanted to show off."

Greg wore an uncanny smirk on his face; he seemed to know that Miles was trying to catch him, and he was able to recover nicely; he could dole out the bullshit with the best of them, and he was fully aware of it.

"And what about the club?"

"The club? What club? The chess club?"

The smirk was turning into a broad smile, almost a patronizing laugh; the little shit was playing with him now. But there was more, his smile got even wider, his lips curling up, slowly exposing perfectly bright white teeth. A chill went down Miles' spine as he looked into the prefect's widening eyes; it was like looking into a bottomless void.

"I see you have a humorous side too."

"Sorry, Mister Dunn, I just don't know where you are going with all your questions."

This was an obvious lie; the kid knew exactly where he was trying to go. Unfortunately, Miles couldn't do much about it without the proper evidence. One thing he had learned in the Corps; never accuse someone without evidence or without going through the proper channels. For now, Greg would simply have to remain an individual of interest.

"Just doing my job, Greg. Is there anything I haven't asked that you can think worth telling me?"

"Nothing I can think of now, but I'll sure tell you if something comes up. Is it ok if I go now?"

"Yes, I won't hold you any longer."

"It was nice meeting you, Mister Dunn."

"You too, Greg."

The prefect left the office, shutting the door behind him the same way he had entered, with a self-assured air of confidence. The way he carried himself said a lot about his inherent leadership qualities, abilities he was keen to show Miles upon his arrival. Miles could not avoid being fascinated by the boy's composure, and quick mind. This boy was special, and would be difficult to break. By the end, he had gotten nothing more factual than what he had started out with, but he now had the certitude that the boy was involved, perhaps even at the core of the problems. He also had a strong feeling of unease about the assertive student.

***

When Miles had finished with the morning interviews, he decided to see Miss Eldricht to check on Anthony's whereabouts over the weekend.

"How are you this morning, Mister Dunn?"

She always greeted him with a warm welcome and pleasant smile, as she did everyone who came into the office; a middle-aged woman whose childbearing years were now behind her, it was the school and all its students and faculty that had become her family. Indeed, like Daniels, the school had become her whole life, the center in which every aspect of her world revolved.

"Rather well, thank you. I just finished interviewing Greg Stilson in my office and…"

"Such a striking boy; isn't he," she interrupted, "one of our best."

"Yes, he is. I was wondering if you could help me with something."

"Of course, Mister Dunn, I'd be glad to help. What is it that you need?"

"I tried to check on Anthony Reid this weekend, you know, the boy that hurt his leg at soccer last week? I took him to the infirmary… "

"Ah, yes, what a lovely boy, and I was so glad to find out that he was ok. I do worry about our boys, they seem to bruise often the way they play those sports so aggressively, don't you think, Mister Dunn?"

"Uhm, yes, Miss Eldritch, but I was wondering, do you know where he was over the weekend? I couldn't find him anywhere, and I didn't see his name on the list of boys going home; did his family finally come and fetch him?

"No, no, he spent the weekend with Mister Thorvald. His chauffeur picked Anthony up, along with young Milo Hughes. We're so fortunate to have someone as kind and generous as Mister Thorvald taking an interest in the boys."

"Mister Thorvald's chauffeur? Are they related?"

"Why no, not at all, Mister Thorvald has been taking some of the boys for many years now, especially the ones who would otherwise not have an opportunity to spend time away from campus."

"Isn't that a bit peculiar?"

Miss Eldricht blinked and looked rather perplexed.

"No, not really. Mister Thorvald is our largest benefactor and most respected member of the board. We're a big family here, Mister Dunn."

With an uncharacteristic frown, she continued in a tone of voice that was unlike the sweet Miss Eldricht everyone knew.

"Those poor boys deserve better treatment than what some of their parents give them. They aren't throwaways; they are children who should be loved and cherished."

Miles was seeing a side of Miss Eldricht that he hadn't expected, the protective mother, looking out for her boys, her family. She unquestionably had deep feelings for them, and it was obvious she would go to great lengths to see to it that the boys were happy. He had unintentionally hit a nerve, a sore spot with Miss Eldricht, and he needed to amend things.

"Yes, Miss Eldricht, I totally agree. Having children is a wonderful gift, may I call you Rose?"

"Why, yes Mister Dunn, or should I say, Miles?"

Her smile and pleasant look had returned; it was as if Miles had reached out and grabbed her hand before she fell any further down that angry path she had suddenly found herself upon.

"My concern, Rose, was for Anthony. I'm glad to hear he was okay and able to enjoy his weekend. Tell me, how are the lucky boys chosen?"

"Well, Carl Fisher, our dean of students, selects the boys, usually only two because that is all Mister Thorvald can take at a time. The boys must be well-behaved, not have any demerits, and have good grades in all their classes. They do, of course, represent the school, so Mister Fisher would only select those boys he believes would best uphold the values of the school and are worthy of Mister Thorvald's generosity."

"I see, and this is okay with their parents?"

"Yes, we have their parents' permission on file, that's a prerequisite. Thank you for reminding me, Miles, you surely are thorough. I now realize how reassuring it is to have you as our new security person."

"Thank you, Rose; seems like everything is in order."

"Well, I'd like to confide in you that I know Mister Daniels has quite a good opinion of you and of your work, too."

"I try to do my best. It's all new to me, you know, so I have to ask about things. Rose, you've been so helpful, and I appreciate the time you've given me, thank you."

"You're welcome, Miles."

Miles still thought it was odd; worthy boys selected to spend a weekend with a member of the board? The boy's clear sexual advances and his own sexual inclinations unlocked new perspectives for him, opening interesting leads to follow. Boarding school was a new experience for Miles, and it certainly had its own customs, traditions, and ways of doing things that seemed strange at times compared to his own experiences growing up and going to school. Yet his instincts kept telling him there something was not right here, things hidden below the rosy façade of this elite boarding school.

Mr. Daniels had instructed him to complete an investigation into various events, so he, too, must be harboring suspicions. Then again, it could all be simple adolescent pranks and behavior, as Greg suggested. Maybe his training in military intelligence to be suspicious of everything and everyone was driving his thinking? Maybe young Anthony Reid would provide clues; he certainly couldn't be as crafty as Greg, not at thirteen.

Miles decided to have a few words with the boy after lunch, so he headed to the dining hall where he knew Anthony would be – if not right now, then soon. The dining hall was a separate building with rooms on the first floor used mostly for club meetings. In the center was a large foyer with a wide spiral staircase at the far end that led up into the cathedral style hall, with its wooden beams and stained glass windows. As he entered from the top of the stairs, he scanned around the room carefully, and then noted Anthony's whereabouts at the Eagle's tables, just below the large round stained glass window with the school emblem. A window that was strategically placed in a building was also carefully oriented so that as the evening sun settled, it lit up this great space in blazing colors, the school colors, and notably during the evening meal, all year round.

Anthony had just sat down with a full tray from the hot lunch line. Atlantic salmon, crispy potato wedges, and broccoli… what kid eats broccoli, Miles thought offhandedly… dessert was a piece of chocolate fudge cake. The boy had two glasses of milk, the second one most likely to wash down the cake. Miles decided to get in the sandwich line so that he would be able to keep an eye on Anthony more easily while eating his own lunch; ham, with Swiss cheese, mayo, and a pickle.

He quietly sat down to eat, facing Anthony, but far enough away so as not be noticed. He enjoyed watching the boys eating, and hearing their chatter with those high-pitched boys' voices that wouldn't last too much longer as they would inevitably change. He surveyed a few well-known faces, sometimes noting their smiles as they met his gaze.

He found Sven, but he was seated too far away and did not have a good view of the boy. He lingered after finishing his own lunch until he saw Anthony get up and head over to drop off his tray. Getting up, Miles went straight to him, dropping his own tray onto the conveyor belt behind Anthony's, and then asked him to come sit with him at a nearby empty table.

Miles thought something was wrong with the boy while he watched Anthony during lunch. The boy hadn't joined the other boys in their banter, nor had he smiled or laughed like the other boys around him had. Miles noticed that he mostly looked down, with his left hand covering his face, and his elbow perched on the table. Anthony's right hand had been holding his fork and playing with his food rather than eating it. He looked like he might have been sick, without an appetite and not smiling or talking. But Miles suspected that the boy was perhaps moody and that something was bothering him, but what? Maybe he didn't like broccoli after all, since he had left all of it on his plate. From what Miles saw, the boy had hardly eaten any of his food.

Anthony looked up at Miles, and without saying a word, walked over to an empty table by the wall and sat down at the end of it. Miles sat down next to him on the opposite side of the table, and could now see the worried look upon the boy's face.

"Anthony, I wanted to let you know that the previous incident is forgotten. I did not mention it to anyone, but decided to keep it between us. I think it would be better for you that way."

The boy did not answer but kept his head cast slightly downward. As he stayed silent, Miles looked closely at the boy for some reaction. When he saw a smile begin to break from the corner of the boy's mouth, he thought that maybe the boy was grateful that nothing would come of that incident.

"I was curious about how you spent this past weekend, that's why I asked you to sit with me."

This time there was a look of surprise as Anthony's head shot to the right and looked up at Miles. His eyes were wide open and his mouth closed with no sign of a smile. Did he just panic, thought Miles?

"W… what I did this weekend?"

"Yes, did you go with your family?"

"My family?"

A quizzical look now took over the expression on his face.

"If you keep repeating my questions, we won't get very far," teased Miles.

"Sorry, I was at Mister Thorvald's place with Milo over the weekend."

"I see," Miles paused before adding, "and what did you do there?"

"We had fun, lots of fun."

The tone changed from surprised to matter-of-fact, and came from a face that was suddenly expressionless. Anthony's hands were clasped together resting in front of him on the table and he was looking straight into Miles' eyes. The words didn't seem to match up with the body language, so Miles decided to press him further.

"Can you tell me about some of the fun things that you did? I'd really like to know."

Anthony looked away and down, staring at his clasped hands. He seemed to be squirming a bit in his chair and he looked uncomfortable. The two sat in silence for what seemed like a long while, with Miles looking directly at him, waiting, and wondering if he finally had something to tell. What is he hiding? Miles felt this was the moment, and that he had the kid on the ropes. He wanted Anthony to take it out, to spill his guts, Anthony seemed only to want the questioning to end as quickly as possible. He seemed to ponder something over in his head before answering Miles' question.

"We went to "Six Flags Over Georgia" in Mister Thorvald's helicopter. We were on a VIP tour, which is the kind of thing you do with Ivor. Milo was there too, it was his first time."

He was starting to open up, but Miles knew there had to be more, it was too obvious.

"So it wasn't your first time?"

"No, I've been there many times this year," he said, quickly adding, "I love it."

Anthony was now speaking very fast and with some enthusiasm in his voice… or was it nervousness?

"Tell me, how are the boys that get to go, chosen?"

"That's Mister Fisher…"

The boy was about to say more, but as if realizing he had made a mistake, he quickly clammed up.

"I see, so Mister Fisher decides who gets to go. Can you tell me why you were chosen so many times?"

Anthony remained silent, seeming not to know how to answer. He appeared to Miles to be a little bit distraught.

"There must have been some reason for you to go that many times?"

"Good grades, being helpful…"

Anthony paused a moment, then his demeanor changed once again. He suddenly took on a lascivious look and leaned forward, licking his lips. Miles was aware of the boy casually pushing his hairless leg against the man's knee. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Miles skirted backwards. Anthony didn't stop, but gently, reaching farther, brushed his leg against Miles' thigh. The boy continued to slide his foot upwards until the tip of his shoe was pressing against Miles' crotch.

This time, Miles jumped and snapped backwards, hitting the back of his chair with such a force that the front legs left the floor, causing him to bump his knees on the underside of the table. He was startled and off balance, and not just physically. This sudden turn of events unsettled him, and now he was the one with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

"Stop it Anthony, or you'll have to go to the headmaster!" he hissed under his breath.

"It's you that I want, you know."

Anthony had an almost diabolical grin, and again reached for Miles' thigh.

"Stop it, or I'll have to report you. I think it's time for you to go back to class."

Miles was panicking; he had been facing the wall and didn't know if anyone had witnessed what had just happened. His heart was racing in his chest, and he didn't know what else to say. He quickly looked around, making sure that nobody had noticed the incident, then got up and stepped away from Anthony.

"Okay, I'll go for now, but you know where to find me, I hope." The boy still sported his impish smile, knowing he had won.

As Anthony stood up and walked away, he walked in a way that gave Miles a good show of the buttocks that were moving in his thin and tight school shorts. Miles, still trying to catch his breath, stared after the exposed, hairless legs of Anthony's. He followed the boy towards the staircase on the far side of the dining hall that led to the ground floor, being careful to keep a safe distance. Then, Anthony suddenly stopped at the top of the spiral staircase, turned his head, and looked straight at Miles, giving him a sly little wink, and then placed both hands flat on his bum cheeks and moved them up and down.

"Damned kid," Miles whispered to himself, feeling dumbfounded.

Looking down at himself, Miles realized that he was fully erect beneath his pants, and the front was tented out in front of him. He quickly glanced around again to make sure that nobody had noticed, and then carefully tucked his stiff cock beneath the waistband. I gotta get rid of this, he thought as he walked briskly down the stairs and out of the dining hall. Once he was in the safety of his room, he would indulge himself with the memory of those yummy, bouncing cheeks beneath Anthony's tiny shorts.

***

Anthony was quite satisfied with himself. He had efficiently outmaneuvered the man and avoided any further questions. He had also taken note of the effect his moves had achieved on Mr. Dunn, a little thing like brushing his leg against the man's had completely unnerved him. Reaching over and touching the man's thigh had Mr. Dunn practically jumping out of his skin. It couldn't have gone any better.

Anthony knew how to come on to a man, and could tell by the reactions – or overreactions in this case, whether the man was interested. He knew Mr. Dunn would soon be receptive to his advances, perhaps in a different place and at a different time, but it would be soon. One more push and he would succeed, Anthony was sure of that. What he wasn't so sure about was what to do with that knowledge. Should he tell Carl that he was making progress? Tell him that he believed Mr. Dunn was a boylover and that he was about to set him up? With such information, it would make him useful and indispensable to Carl, and it could help him overcome his problems with Greg, too.

Anthony had not enjoyed his weekend one bit. Even the surprise trip to Six Flags with Ivor's helicopter and the gold ankle bracelet did not alleviate his resentment. The trip had been truly grand, they had been treated like movie stars, but Anthony had still felt left out. Thorvald and Milo were always close together, talking, laughing, touching like a couple of lovebirds. The man's interest was clearly in the younger boy; Anthony was yesterday's news.

In the end, despite Greg's warnings to keep it to himself, he had been quite vocal about his mistreatment at the hands of the prefect. First with Thorvald, who promised him that Greg would not be invited back, and later with Carl, after they had gotten back to the school. He did not want to have anything to do with Greg again. The men had listened, but as Greg had warned him, there had been no clear reaction from Carl. He just got some reassurance that he would talk with the prefect, nothing else. The only real punishment Greg received was from Thorvald; he was banned from the weekend trips to the mansion. It was far from enough, Greg was sick… sick and dangerous.

Anthony was kind of lost; he had found a new family at the School with the club and with Carl, but now everything was in jeopardy and his feelings of loss and insecurity were back. Greg was certainly a deadly enemy now that Anthony had told on him. After Thorvald, who would certainly help, albeit from a safe distance, he had no one to turn to except Carl. Sadly, the man's attitude had been condescending. All he was interested in was to have Mister Dunn on a leash. He had promised a lot, but the boy now doubted he would deliver. Greg wasn't afraid of Carl, he had stood up to him for months. Anthony didn't see how it could possibly change now.

He would still try to get to Mr. Dunn, not so much for Fisher now, but for himself. It would be his own personal challenge and it also might help him keep a foothold in the club, and save what could be saved.

***

"Ah, fuck," Miles hissed.

His lower stomach was bathed with a fresh puddle of cum as his cock twitched in his hand. The image of Anthony's ass shaking around in those tight shorts was fresh in his memory, and he had just finished fantasizing about sliding his hard cock in between those bubbly, bouncing cheeks. How good it would feel to penetrate the obviously oversexed boy, to feel the heat from Anthony's body against his own, to hear the boy's muffled moans of pleasure as he gave the boy reach-around. Sex with Anthony would certainly be much better than using his rough, calloused hand.

He lay back for a few moments, breathing heavily as he stared at the blank ceiling. He could imagine the boy lying beside him now, resting his head on Miles' chest as he dipped a finger in the man's cum and lifted it to his lips for a taste. They could be sleeping right now in each other's arms, happy and carefree. If only Miles knew for certain that the boy actually wanted him, and wasn't just setting him up for blackmail or some scandal.

Sighing to himself, Miles used a few tissues to wipe the cum off his stomach, then sat up. He pulled his pants back up and fastened them, slid back into his shirt, and after checking himself in the small mirror that he had hung on his wall, left the room to continue with his work.

Miles had a busy afternoon schedule. He was to spend most of it with the technicians, checking the school's security systems and cameras. There were only a few low resolution cameras scattered throughout the school's campus; the lack of cameras was a demand by the board for the privacy of the boys and their families. Two cameras were perched above the front gate, ten more around the perimeter facing the outside, two at the pool, two at the sports field, and two in the gymnasium.

There was also one camera placed in front of the barn and a final camera facing off the Administration building. It was there that the control room was situated and manned by the janitors and the head of security. After reviewing the camera locations, Miles quickly decided that they would be of no help in his investigation, the images captured were all too fuzzy. Whoever the perpetrators were, they knew to avoid them carefully most of the time. Some of the cameras had themselves been the subject of vandalism and been put out of order, their feed showing nothing but static on the security monitors.

Miles turned his attention to the view of the cameras facing the sports field and despite the poor quality, he could see Matthew and Bob playing and training on the field below. He watched them with some interest for a while as the two boys darted back and forth across the field, dribbling a soccer ball as they went.

***

Matthew and Bob had decided to meet on the field every day after classes to play some soccer and share their expertise with each other. They would also occasionally check on the barn to see if they could catch those boys again. In fact, whether together or separately, they had gone there very often these last two days. So far, there had been no success. They had not really discussed what they had witnessed, not knowing what attitude to adopt with the other. Each one also wanted to look well versed in such activities, lest they appear to be naïve to the other. What neither one let on was the fact that they were both still fairly clueless about sexual activities.

Bob had an advantage having been at a boarding school for close to two years now. He had heard many things about sex, had laughed, frowned, and joked when the situation called for it. He had learned to do what everybody else did, though many times he didn't understand the humor. He came from a very strict home where many things were taboo and never spoken of. That's why this school, even with its many rules, rang of freedom to him.

Still, the matter of sex had remained of little interest to him until two days ago. Now, his whole outlook had changed and he had become much more inquisitive about sex. He had felt strong stirrings beneath his shorts that inevitable day, and these feelings returned each time he thought about it or went back to the stables. It annoyed Bob to no end; he liked to be in control of himself, a thought that had been indoctrinated into him from a very early age.

His annoyance was even stronger because of his strong friendship with Matthew. He did not want to put it in jeopardy and he thought of his newfound feelings as a menace. Still, he could not refrain from going to the stables again and again in the hope of seeing more, of seeing, knowing, and maybe even feeling more.

He also felt a responsibility for Matthew, who was the new boy and looked up to him. Bob felt that his position was to serve as a guide in this world that was totally new to his friend. However, when it came to the matter of sex, Bob felt as new to everything as Matthew. It may not be true in the theoretical sense since he knew many words and situations and did get a look at some porn like most everybody at school, but the sense of it all escaped him somewhat.

He was also aware of who to be wary of – that prefect, Greg, and the rest of his gang. Also Mister Fisher, whose interest for Matthew after the soccer match was worrisome. Bob did not like that guy, the way he looked at you with a lewd smile on his face. His parents had insisted that he remain cautious of such people, but they hadn't gone into much detail as to why. After his two years at Saint Xavier, Bob realized that it was clearly about sex. He just didn't understand how it was about sex.

He was slightly concerned about Mister Dunn too, but not for any sexual reasons. Bob was jealous because of the man's acquired closeness with Matthew. Not for the first time, Bob found himself wishing that he, and not Mister Dun, could be in the same dorm as Matthew. Bob and Matthew were the best of friends during the day, but at night, the boy's closest friend was the head of security.

The two boys had been playing for thirty minutes when Bob called for a brief pause. It was five thirty, and he wanted to go check the barn for signs of the two fornicators.

"I brought some bread and carrots for the horses, wanna go feed 'em?"

"Sure," Matthew sounded eager, "we can practice again later."

They fell silent as they approached the stables. Much to Bob's disappointment, the place was deserted – aside from the horses. They started feeding each of the horses the few provisions they had brought, and when the food was all gone, they stayed for a while, talking quietly while petting Miss Simons 's mare, a splendid white horse named Luscent. They were preparing to leave when Bob heard someone approaching.

"Someone's coming," Bob whispered in Matthew's ear, "quick, get in Luscent's stall."

Without another word, they crept into the stall and ducked down, keeping out of sight.

"Nobody's gonna come here, I checked. There's no chores for this evening."

"You sure? I don't wanna get caught."

"Neither do I, and remember; you're just the poor innocent boy. I'm the one that's taking a risk here."

Bob and Matthew held their breath as the same two boys that they saw the previous time enter the stables and look around.

"I brought a blanket to put over the hay this time so it'll be more comfortable."

The two boys that had entered were both from Puma house. One appeared to be about twelve, and looked a bit nervous. The other was around sixteen, and had a blanket tucked beneath his arm.

"Let's pick a dark stall away from the entrances," said the younger boy, sounding timid.

"Okay, I want to finish what we started the other day. Your ass felt great."

"Don't talk like that, I don't like it."

"Fine," said the older boy, "let's just get down to business then. Take them shorts off."

Bob and Matthew watched the two boys pass by their stall and enter the one just across from them. There wasn't much light, but there was enough to get a good idea of what was going on.

"It's Mike and Lukas, from my dorm," whispered Bob

"You know them?"

Matthew seemed surprised that it could be so.

"Yeah, what's so strange about it? They've been here at least as long as I have."

"But you really know them?" Matthew asked, still looking taken aback.

"Uh… yeah… you're getting silly, Matthew. Look at what they're doing."

Without realizing it, Bob's hand had gone to his crotch. As he gave himself a few absentminded squeezes, he watched as the older boy, Mike, set the blanket down on the hay and positioned the younger boy beneath him, raising the boy's legs and bringing the knees backward to expose the boy's backside.

"Did you lube it this time?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, but be careful. It can hurt some at first."

"Yeah yeah, don't worry. Let's make out a bit first, okay?"

"Um… okay," the younger boy said, sounding unsure.

Bob and Matthew could only see faint silhouettes in the darkness, so they had to guess at what was going on between the two young lovers. The older one was obviously the much more enthusiastic of the duo, and soon the sound of rhythmic slapping could be heard through the stillness of the stables. It lasted for a good fifteen minutes before the older boy slumped down with a satisfied gasp of pleasure.

"You gotta blow me now," said Lukas.

"Hold on, I think I'll go a second round first. You felt fabulous, much better than last time."

"But we don't have time," complained the younger boy.

"Yes we do. Look, I'm getting hard again already."

A few moments later, the stables were once again filled with the soft slapping noises, followed by hushed grunts. Bob could see the silhouette of the younger boy lying on his back on the blanket, his legs held up and spread apart. The taller silhouette was standing above him, thrusting his hips back and forth against the younger's bum. There was a brief moan, and then Bob and Matthew watched as the older boy knelt down in front of the younger boy and started bobbing his head. The younger boy placed his hands upon the older boy's head, directing him. Then, the bigger boy lifted his hand and began rubbing the smaller boy's backside.

"Hey, get your finger outta there!" Lukas said angrily.

Mike stopped bobbing his head momentarily to answer the boy.

"Aww, shut up. You know you like it."

The bobbing resumed, and in the darkness, Bob watched as the younger boy's silhouette suddenly stiffened, and then relaxed. The older boy turned his head and spat onto the ground, and then both boys started fixing their clothing. Mike gathered up the bedsheet, and as they turned to leave the stables, Bob could hear them talking once more.

"We gotta find a better place. If only you could join me for a night." said Mike.

"I dunno, I think I'm gonna be sore for a while. I gotta go to the bathroom, hurry up."

Bob and Matthew were speechless in the darkness of the stall. Neither boy dared to look at the other. Bob felt both ashamed and excited; they had been spying on the two boys for almost thirty minutes.

"We have to change, it will be dinnertime soon," said Bob

"Yeah, let's go."

As they left the quiet of the stables and headed towards their respective dorms, both boys were lost in thought, not exchanging a single word as they parted ways.

***

Miles, contrary to the previous Friday evening, was anticipating this evening's shower duty. The weekend had shown him there was nothing to fear; he was in control and he thought he could safely face any situation now… as long as none of the Bear boys suddenly started rubbing his thigh.

His eagerness came from several factors; first, this time he was planning on enjoying, without reserve, the spectacle of all those pretty boys in all their astounding glory, all the while remaining inconspicuous. He felt quite ready for it now.

Second, he would be happy to see some of the weekend boys again and try to deepen their relationships; the beautiful Matthew and his goofy dorm mates, young Logan, the chatty and shameless boy, and just about every other boy that he would get to see nude again.

Finally, he had the secret hope to find one that would show him the same special interest and availability that Anthony had shown him in a very obvious way, and to some extent Sven, in a more ambiguous way.

As long as they weren't explicitly obvious about it the way Anthony had been that afternoon, having a "special" relationship with a Bear boy would be much more practical than trying something with Anthony, an Eagle. Of all the students in the dorm, there had to be one such boy, and tonight, he would be on the lookout for any hints that were dropped.

He was at his post well before the required time and had taken position beside the doorway. Soon, he heard the boys starting to leave their rooms and come towards the showers. Omar Seku was his aide that evening, and Miles immediately saw that the prefect was feared by the students. If he wanted them relaxed and at ease, he would have to send Omar on some errand, or at least away from the changing room.

While the first boys entered in surprising silence and waited in line to be directed to their shower stall, Miles ordered the prefect to watch the corridor and round up any late comers. As soon as Omar had left, the tongues got loose and the atmosphere became much more joyous, the room filling up with the delightful sound of boyish laughs and banter. Miles started sending the boys in, exchanged a few words with those waiting in line, and even asked for the names of boys that appealed to him and seemed talkative enough. He was also trying, when possible, to send the most interesting ones to the closest stalls in clear view of the doorway.

Once again, Sean Parks was among the first, accompanied a slightly effeminate but striking boy named Louis Saville, who raised Miles' interest.

"Hey Sean, I didn't know you were friends with Louis." he said, grinning at the duo.

"Yep," answered the twelve-year-old, "we've been pals since we got here at St Xavier three years ago." Then, as an aside, "but don't get any wrong ideas, sir, and don't trust his looks. He's a real boy, it's better not to call him names to his face; he knows how to get respect."

The feminine looking boy blinked his gorgeous green eyes and graced Miles with a shy smile as he nodded his agreement. Such long lashes for a boy, though Miles.

"I'll remember that. There's a free stall to the left for you, Sean."

Miles was pleased; the answer had been natural and friendly. It seemed word had gotten around of the Sunday he had spent with some of the boys on the horse trails, and the students that presented themselves to him were all at ease and responsive.

Soon, his young friend, Logan, appeared beside him, accompanied by a red-haired elfin boy about the same age. Of course, Logan discarded his towel right away and settled himself beside Dunn against the wall, with his little friend in tow.

The outgoing young lad started chatting away, and Miles soon knew all there was to know concerning the red headed Ken, what Logan had done over the weekend and how much the boy would have rather spent it with Miles, going horseback riding and swimming. Clearly, all of his actions of the previous day had been debriefed among the boys of Bear dorm.

Within minutes, Miles had learned that Ken and Logan were both scholarship boys, that there were few of them at the school, and that they were often ostracized by the other students for that very reason. Ken was in a stark contrast with Logan; shy, casting furtive glances around at the other boys and holding tightly to his towel.

As he was listening to Logan talk about everything under the sun, Miles was still on the lookout and sending boys in for their showers. He could now put names to some of the faces, notably those he had singled out the previous Friday, and he was striving to place those particular boys in good view of his post near the doorway. He was enjoying both the cute rambling of the little angel beside him, as well as the loveliness of the shiny, lean, bodies exposed all around.

There was Ellis Woods, the fifteen-year-old red-haired boy with green eyes and freckles covering his face and butt cheeks, showering in the stall directly ahead of Miles. Frederick Clarke, the thirteen-year-old dark-haired boy with a light dusting of freckles and a body to die for stood beside Ellis, talking to the older boy as he scrubbed his genitals with a washcloth. A few blonds were next, Kinley Newman, an adorable ten-year-old with a springy little cocklet and a perfectly formed ass. Brett Barnes, a boy of about twelve with beautiful hazel eyes, long coltish legs, and creamy thighs. Brice Tanner, a young Adonis of the same age stood beside Brett, his eyes closed, and his face turned upwards as he let the water wash over his face. Miles couldn't help staring momentarily at the small stream of water that fell from the tip of the boy's beautiful young cock.

With some regret, Logan finally decided his turn had come, and he entered the shower room with the elvish-looking Ken following closely behind. They were both adorable and had nice bodies, Ken no less than Logan, with an elegance and charm that wasn't noticed at first.

Miles now had a long list of worthy candidates, but so far, he had not been able to detect a clear sign of interest from any of them. Logan was unashamed of boldly showing off his body, but there was nothing sexual in his attitude. Besides, Logan seemed more like the cute kind of boy to have a nude tickling match with, not an intimate sexual relationship. The boy seemed less of a willing lover, and more like an excitable puppy, chasing after every little thing that moved. Having only seen about a third of the boys so far, Miles hoped that the next batch would bring him that special boy that he was looking for.

Unfortunately, it was young Greyson that showed up next. Miles had had time to think of how to handle the boy over the weekend, and so he pulled the insolent child aside before the boy could enter the showers. Miles informed Greyson that he would be last to shower, and that he would have to wait in plain view of Miles for his turn. The little bully was obviously not happy with the news, but he seemed not to want any more punishments, so he stormed off to the corner and spent his time sulking there, casting angry glares at Miles whenever the man looked in his direction.

Matthew, Johnny, Ke and Walt showed up together shortly after the confrontation, all smiles and laughter. They were calling Miles "sir," but their attitude spoke as much of affection as it did of respect for the man. It made Miles feel great to know that the group of boys had accepted him into their fold so quickly.

Matthew, while waiting for an open shower, came to lean against Miles as he often did. It was to Miles' delight that he had the opportunity to get a feel of the boy's soft, velvety skin under his hand, and the weight of his slight but sturdy frame. There may have been some potential for more there, but Miles felt strangely reluctant to go further. He still fully enjoyed the five minutes the boy spent nude under the water though, a vision he would cherish and recollect for the next few days until it could be renewed.

The parade of boys continued: twelve-year-old Elias Reyes, a glossy, dark-skinned Latino with shiny black hair, and a well-defined body that ended with a beautiful bubble butt; Myles Nguyen, thirteen, with slanted eyes and a petite, exquisite form; Hugo Dawson, an all-American blond, fourteen-years-old with blue eyes and a strong lanky frame; Connor Rutledge, a brown-haired eleven-year-old with delicate porcelain skin and a fairly large penis; and Alden Holloway, a boy of about twelve that had one blue eye and one green eye beneath his mop of raven-black hair.

Miles took mental notes of those that were not afraid to show off their bodies, the modest ones, and the shy ones that clung to their towels like lifelines. But none of these boys, despite his close watch, would deliberately give him any hint of being available. Perhaps it wasn't the right place for it; too exposed and too crowded.

As the last of the Bear boys were leaving, Miles turned toward Grayson and told him that it was his turn to shower. He wanted Omar to be present to witness what was to unfold, and after calling the prefect into the changing room, they entered the shower room together with the boy in tow.

"Okay Greyson, go ahead. You got five minutes."

The boy had not been expecting to be under the close scrutiny of anyone during his shower, and seemed to be unexpectedly intimidated by the two, and this was exactly the effect Miles had been hoping for. Greyson was a very good-looking lad and a joy to appraise, but he now seemed ill at ease and hesitant in his moves.

"Won't you put on a show for us today? You seemed quite willing on Friday, enthusiastic, even. What do you think Seku? Would you like to see it, you missed his little exhibition the other day"

The prefect grinned sadistically at Miles as he entered the game. Knowing that the prefect loved to bully the younger boys around, Miles had anticipated this very reaction from Omar.

"I'd love to man, but I'm afraid he ain't got much to see. What's he got there, three inches, four [8-10 cm] at the most? Nothin' but a little boy's cock."

Miles chuckled. Greyson certainly wasn't erect now; the flaccid penis that lay beneath his small patch of pubic hair looked about as miserable as the boy did himself.

"It was so small; I don't quite remember its size to be true. So Grayson, aren't you gonna showcase it for us?"

Miles' scheme was working, very well. Even if Grayson had wanted to prove him wrong, the boy was in a state that would have made any attempt to prove it seem preposterous. The bully was beaten and had the intelligence to know it. He did not answer, but kept his head down as he quickly soaped off his body. His cheeks were reddening with the blush of rage as he was rinsing the suds off and finishing his shower as fast as possible.

Miles decided he had learned his lesson and did not order him to stay longer under the water. There was no need to embitter the boy more than necessary, the little brat would think twice before challenging his authority again.

"You're free to go Grayson, try to behave from now on. Believe me; I didn't like it any more than you did."

That last sentence was not quite true, but no one had to know it. Standing beside him, Omar chuckled with callous glee.

"Hell, I did," the prefect said as he turned to leave the shower room.

"Go on now, Greyson," Miles told the blushing bully, "back to your room."

The boy left with a strong resentment; unfortunately, Miles thought that he might not be of the kind who learned from their mistakes.

***

That Tuesday in the late afternoon, Miles was seated at his office browsing through his files. After a week, Miles already had quite a few leads for the investigation he was running. They weren't really facts, but many of them were small clues that pointed in the same direction.

He had heard from a few of the boys notably Sven the mention of some sort of a secret "club". Greg was still a mystery, as well as Sven who clearly did not tell all he knew. In fact, many of the boys he had interviewed seemed afraid to talk. Anthony seemed to be extremely oversexed for a boy his age, but his motives were obscure. There was some evidence that contraband could be bought on campus, although to what ends Miles wasn't sure. A few boys had run away from the school in the past few months. Was it the result of bullying? And then there was the VIP weekends with some guy named Thorvald. What part did Carl Fisher play in all of this?

Could all this be linked? It would be logical; from experience, Miles had learned that most things happened for a reason, and there was usually only one root cause to several events. He leaned back in his chair and pondered the clues that he had uncovered. How could it all be related? Was it possible that one of the "most respected members of the board" could be supplying the students with forbidden items through the prefect, Greg? Was there more to it than that?

Miles had only received three or four calls on his office phone since his arrival, and when it rang on that particular evening, he mechanically looked at the wall clock facing him. The clock read 5:43 p.m., a number that would remain in his memory for a long time.

"Hello?" Miles asked into the receiver.

The voice that came from the other end was one that Miles didn't recognize.

"Mister Dunn?"

"Yes, who's speaking?"

"I'm sorry to bother you just before dinner, this is Doctor Perry, ah, Michael. I'm Matthew's dad."

Matthew's dad? Why would Matthew's father be calling him, at his office? He had no direct capacity in relation with the students. Warning bells went off in his head, had he done something? No, that was impossible. He hadn't done anything worse than watch the boys shower, and that was part of his duties. Unless it was about Matthew coming to his room most evenings… could his father have heard about it and gotten the wrong idea?

"What can I do for you, sir?" He asked, keeping his voice steady.

"In fact, a lot. Mister Dunn, are you alone?"

"I am."

Miles' heart was beginning to race in his chest, but he focused on his breathing and keeping himself calm. What could this possibly be about?

"May I ask you for a private email, not the school one?"

"Miles dot Dunn at Gmail dot com. What is it all about?"

"I'm afraid you'll understand all too soon, Mister Dunn. I am sending you a file, I would be very grateful if you could take a close look at it as soon as you hang up the phone. I'll call you back in thirty minutes, but on your cell phone instead of your office line. Would you please give me the number?"

Personal emails, private cell phone number, it sounded almost like Dr. Perry didn't want anybody at the school to see what he was sending him. Miles was still on high alert, but he was starting to calm down a little. Unless it was some sort of blackmail, and Miles surely wasn't making enough money for that, it must not have anything to do with Matthew and him.

"Tell you what, I'll reply to your email and add the number, that way you can be sure I got the file."

"That will do, thank you Mister Dunn."

"No offense intended, but you are a very mysterious guy, Doctor Perry. You know that? You kinda scared me for a minute there."

"I'm sorry if I scared you, but there is a lot at stake. My son's future, notably."

So it was indeed about Matthew, yet it made no sense. Had Matthew's father seen something when he visited? Had the boy told his father about their nightly chats? There was nothing that Miles could think of, all his hard drives were encrypted and his laptop was safely locked up. Alarm bells were resonating in his head again. Before he could say anything more, the line clicked and went dead.

Miles hung up the phone and dug his laptop out of the bottom drawer. He was quite nervous when he booted it up and checked his email. At first, there was nothing new. The last email he had received was a penis enlargement spam from a few minutes earlier. Only after a few seconds did he hear the soft "ping" that notified the arrival of a new message. Sure enough, there was a file attached, but when Miles opened it, the message was laconic and brought him no real answers.

Mister Dunn

Open the file dated 04.11.18. The others are locked.

Michael Perry

The file was a .RAR archive and rather big. Due to the size, Miles knew that there had to be more than just text documents inside. After sending a reply with his personal cell phone number attached, he unzipped the archive, and then opened the first file that had been addressed to him by Perry. He read the entire document, and then opened the other documents, one after the other. Not able to do anything else, he stared at the screen, trying to process as much of the strange documents as he could.

Suddenly, his cell phone started ringing, bringing him out of his trance.

"Mister Dunn?"

"Yes, still here," he answered in a strained voice.

"Have you read the document I was referring to?"

"Yes…" his voice trailed off.

"I suppose you are now perfectly aware of the situation."

"I think I am, but why me? Why did you send it to me?"

"Because of my son, of course."

"If you wanted to come and fetch him, I would understand, but what you're asking is inappropriate, you are his father."

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid I can't. That's the main reason why I called you and sent you those classified documents, I want you to take care of Matthew. "

"Take care of Matthew? What do you mean, you don't even know me."

"You're right, I don't, but my son does. He has been telling me about you from his first day at Saint Xavier. I hope you don't mind, but I also checked up on your background records. You seem to me the most reliable person I can trust my son's life with."

This has gone beyond absurd and into the realm of the surreal, thought Miles. I'm gonna need some time to think everything over. Except that he had no time. If the documents were truly genuine, it meant that time was running out.

"What if I die? I mean, that's a strong possibility, isn't it?"

"I trust you to find someone else to do the job."

"Why can't you do it yourself?"

"As I said before, I'm not able to do that. I work for the CDC, and I've been chosen to lead a team to find a vaccine. Due to the worsening situation, it means I'll have to go underground for a few weeks, possibly even months. I may well be cut off from the outside world with no way to communicate, at least until we succeed. We have all tested negative, but nothing is really sure yet. We're sort of gambling with it as a last chance bet."

"A vaccine? What for, if it will only be ready once everybody's dead?"

Dr. Perry sighed over the line.

"That's a good question. We are doing it to save humanity, or what's left of humanity, anyway. I realize how pompous that may sound, but it's true. There are other teams working on a cure too, in many other countries. Unfortunately, no one really knows what will happen once the virus has completed it's job. It might mutate again, it might affect most of the boys when they get older, possibly the next generation as well. We just don't know yet."

"I see." "Mister Dunn, if you accept the task, I'll give you access to all those locked files in the attachment. In fact, I'm sending you the encryption keys for them right now. I don't have any other alternatives, I'm afraid you are my only choice in the matter."

It appeared that the man was indeed desperate. Miles felt the strain of the burden and the weight of all that information coming to rest upon his shoulders. If the documents were valid, there was also the fact that he probably would be dead himself in the next few weeks.

"One of the encrypted folders contains a video message that I made for Matthew. In it, I try to explain to him why I sent him to Saint Xavier's and that you are his guardian until a cure has been created. He is to listen to you from now on."

Under normal circumstances, Miles would have leaped for joy at the thought of being able to get the role of surrogate father of a boy as wonderful as Matthew. However, his happiness at being handed a boy of his own was clouded by the bleak future that was foretold by the documents.

"I'm afraid there is no way for you or anyone else to escape what is coming. I have given you the means to prepare for the worst, and I ask that you hope for the best. In exchange, I demand only that you do all you can to protect my son in the coming months. That's the deal; you have the chance to be in one of the safest places you can hope for when the shit hits the fan, and believe me, it will. You don't have that much time; please make the best of it."

Miles was speechless. What was there to say after finding out that near-certain death was approaching faster than a bullet train? There was no real answer; the end of the world was quite an abstract notion, but your own death… that was what really mattered.

"I'll have to leave you now; I'm running out of time, too. It is unlikely we will meet again, but who can tell? If I can send you more relevant information, I will do so in the next twenty-four hours. If you have questions, send me an email and I'll answer them to the best of my abilities. Once the grid goes down, there will be no way for us to communicate anymore."

"I… I can't believe this is happening," Miles stuttered, finally finding his voice.

"Well it is, and I don't know if it could have been avoided. Many others felt the same way you did, but they did not listen or take precautions. Please don't make the same mistake. Show the video to my son; tell him I'm terribly sorry, and that I love him. I am doing it all for him, please tell him."

The man's voice was wavering with emotion, and he had to clear his throat so that he could go on.

"As soon as I am done here, I'll come to Saint Xavier for him."

"I'll do my best, I swear. I wish you well and hope that you'll be able to join us here and be reunited with Matthew soon."

"Goodbye, Mister Dunn, may God bless you."

"Goodbye, sir"

As the phone was disconnected for the second time that evening, the room was plunged into a heavy silence. At this time, everybody was at the cafeteria having dinner and the Administration building was empty. Miles Dunn sat back in his chair and reviewed as much of the information as he could, trying to commit it to memory.

An end of the world pandemic was here. What had started in China would be repeated in every country of the world. It had already begun here in the States. There was no way to stop it, no known cures, and quarantines had proven ineffective. Society as they knew it would be a thing of the past in a matter of months, if not weeks.

Nine out of ten adults and an estimated four out of ten children were expected to succumb to the strange virus. According to previous cases, females seemed much more susceptible to the virus, with an affected ratio five times higher than males. That news in itself was enough to put an end to civilization, but there was more.

What would accelerate the fall of mankind and disrupt any kind of effective answer that could be thought up was what was being referred to as the "rage." All patients in the last phase of the disease became enraged, attacking and trying to kill everything around them. Friends, family, children, parents, it made no difference. Most of the infected would then die after a short time, but one out of five became what was being called "ferals." These unlucky few survived the initial infection, but remained in a permanently enraged state, making all tentative efforts to maintain a semblance of order near impossible. The documents predicted clearly that quarantine, martial law, and National Guard deployment would be far from enough. Chaos seemed inevitable.

Miles found the new email that Dr. Perry had sent and used the encryption password to unlock the encrypted files. These were mostly full of evacuation routes, secret compounds with freeze-dried emergency food, weapons caches, maps, diagrams, and a list of places to avoid due to industrial, chemical, or nuclear risk. Digging a little deeper, Miles found a surplus of scientific studies on the disease at every known stage.

He had been hungry earlier, but now he had completely lost his appetite. He left his office with his laptop tucked under his arm and walked dazedly through the halls of St. Xavier, avoiding contact and conversation on his way out. He eventually ended up in his room where he sorted through the files again, but seemed to have problems concentrating.

He had been confronted with death many times before, having seen it up close enough to feel its kiss on his lips. But all his previous encounters had been during proactive situations. In the past, he had been the one making the decisions. Whenever he had put himself at risk, he had been in control. This scenario was totally different. He and every other person on the planet were at the mercy of a virus with very few chances to make it through, and no conceived way to change the outcome. He would probably die in the next few weeks and what had he achieved in his short lifetime? Not much. He had lived his entire life hiding within himself, not daring to show his true self to anyone. Perhaps it was for the best. A bloody end to this mess; no more questions to be answered, decisions to be made, or unfulfilled desires to worry about.

What if it was all a hoax? What if Perry was wrong or a lunatic? From the government documents Miles had seen in the past these certainly seemed official, but what if it was all based upon false information? After all, he had been an Intel Officer in the military, not a forensic document examiner. Could these deadly predictions be totally off the wall and life would go on as usual? For a respected scientist to entrust the future safety of his son to someone he had never once met was quite illogical. After all, Dr. Perry would not be the first scientist to make mistakes and announce events that never came to be.

As he followed this train of thoughts, Miles knew they were quite unfounded. The hundreds of documents he had been sent bore all the requirements of official government documentation, including digital signatures and private digital watermarking. Unless some clever group of practical jokers had discovered a way to forge the official watermarks of the NSA, CIA, GCHQ, BND, FAPSI, and 3PLA, this was definitely official stuff, not the ramblings of a madman. To Miles' trained eye, it all appeared to be true. A little pessimistic perhaps, it might not be quite that catastrophic, but still it was coming.

A gentle rapping on his door took him out of his thoughts. It was Matthew, coming for his routine evening visit. Before Miles could announce that he was busy, the boy had entered the small cubicle. Looking around, Matthew seemed carefree, wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts as he told Miles all about his day.

Such a lovely boy, thought Miles, and perhaps all mine if I wanted. He had yet to see the video message Perry had left his son, what did the man say in it? Even though the world seemed to be coming to a drastic end, Miles couldn't help admiring the beautiful boy standing so gracefully by his small desk. While Matthew chatted away, Miles found himself forging different scenarios, all of which ended with the boy submitting to his every desires.

While the boy continued to talk, Miles was caught up in a mental battle with himself. He would make the occasional "mhmm" or "oh yeah" when there was a break in the boy's speech, but he was too busy with his mental debate to hear much of what Matthew was saying. Perhaps he could have Matthew as his young lover. The boy's father was away, possibly never to be seen again, and had chosen Miles as the child's guardian. There was nothing to lose since he supposed that he was already as good as dead. The more he thought about it, the more he felt inclined to give it a try. His sense of duty, and the fact that he had been entrusted Matthew by his father, was losing ground.

Casually he sat, the boy still standing and leaning against him naturally, as he was wont to do, taking comfort in the strong man's presence. Might as well see how he reacts, Miles thought. With a simple pull he settled the child into his lap, facing the laptop screen. The door was closed, and the sounds of boys talking quietly in their rooms before lights out were barely audible. Should Miles show him the video; it could be done with a few mouse clicks. No, not yet. He needed to see it for himself first, see what Perry told his son. For now, he could give Matthew a little "trial run."

He started up a game of Mahjong on the laptop, and Matthew grinned as he took hold of the mouse and started clicking on matching tiles. While the boy was concentrating on the game, Miles' hand was gently caressing the boy's supple thigh, each time going up a little bit farther. Matthew was talking about Bob and something they had seen while feeding the horses in the stables. Between the computer game and his recounting of the day's events, Matthew seemed preoccupied enough. Miles wasn't really listening, but was intensely focused on the feeling of his hand coursing the smooth, delicate skin, the weight of the boy in his lap, the clean smell of his freshly washed hair. He was losing himself in the boy's hypnotizing essence.

Miles' hand dipped just into the leg of Matthew's boxer shorts. Another inch or two, and he would be grazing his fingertips against the side of the boy's hairless scrotum. Matthew shifted a little on his lap, unaware that it had probably been because of Miles' rising erection. There was no break in the kid's tone of voice; he seemed oblivious to everything except the game and his retelling of the day's events. Miles subtlety slid his hand up a little more. Another half-inch and he would be in heaven. His heart was pounding in his chest like a sledgehammer as he dared himself to slowly move further up, just a quarter of an inch to go.

Before he could reach his goal, there was a knock on the door, which caused both Matthew and him to jump. Miles hesitated a moment, getting his erection to die down a little and trying to slide his hand away from Matthew's crotch at the same time without the boy noticing. Matthew looked first at the door, and then craned his neck to look at Miles. Feeling safe enough now, Miles piped up, trying to keep the adrenaline out of his voice:

"Come in."

Johnny opened the door and stood in the doorway, his body silhouetted against the lights from the hallway.

"Hi, Mister Dunn. What are you doing Matthew? Walt's looking for you, it'll be lights out soon and we should be in bed."

"Sorry," said Matthew, "I didn't realize it was that late."

Damn! Having been so close to paradise, it was hard for Miles to give it up. He didn't have a choice, though, so he placed his arm on Matthew's shoulder and guided the boy off his lap.

"My fault, boys, I wasn't paying attention to the time either. Go on off to bed, I'll see you tomorrow."

Matthew nodded and started walking towards Johnny, then seemed to have a second thought and turned back to Miles. Before he knew what was coming, Matthew had leaned forward and planted a timid good night kiss on his cheek, for the very first time. Johnny made a grimace, but it was a half-hearted one as if he too longed to do the very same thing. They closed the door behind them on their way out, leaving Miles in total confusion, torn between his desires and the strong genuine affection he felt for them.

Miles was left alone looking at the laptop screen and the unfinished game. At the same time frustrated and longing for the boy's presence, and relieved it had ended that way. Due to his sexual preferences, he had always kept a distance from people, even with his close friends and family. There was truly no one else that he would like to be with during that time of crisis, no close family left to him, either. In the end, what better place could there be than at this School, surrounded by desirable boys? He could make a real difference here and help, at least for the time he had left. In a situation like tonight's, he could even allow his true self to surface. What would it matter in a few weeks, anyway?

After a quick wank, while thinking about Matthew's perfect body, he spent the remainder of the night trying to learn as much as possible about the deadly virus and making plans for the inevitable crisis. He pulled up his email and sent a few messages to his old military buddies to verify some of the information. He only slept a few hours during the early morning, and it was an agitated sleep.

At first light, he woke up and tuned in to CNN's live feed on his laptop. Since his arrival only a little more than a week ago, he had not given any attention to the outside world. Instead, he had focused only on the challenge his new job represented for him. After a few minutes of watching the news, he had no doubt that he should have been more attentive to the current events that had been unfolding around the globe.

There were special editions on every news site he checked, CNN, FOX, Yahoo! News. The virus was not contained within China anymore, but had spread throughout all of Southeast Asia. The effect on the global economy was the main topic and sounded quite drastic. In fact, governments and politicians were discussing that aspect of the problem with only a few words, concerning themselves more with the potential health crisis that was coming. With his new knowledge, Miles considered it all to be misinformation. The situation in China seemed uncertain, with few verified facts. Planes were grounded, trains were stopped, quarantines had been declared in many regions It was not as bad as Dr. Perry had predicted but it was probably only the beginning.

After once again going through the many files, Miles selected a few documents to show to Daniels. He put these onto a flash drive, then put all the others on another one that he encrypted, leaving only Perry's message to his son on the laptop. He did not want too much information being exposed and see a panic develop at the school. There was a lot of sensible data which he thought would be better for him to have sole access to, since no one knew how things would turn out yet. In the military, he had been taught to prepare for the worst. This often prevented him from being sorry later on.

At nine that morning, he told Miss Eldrich to cancel all his appointments, empty his schedule for the day, and that he needed to see Mr. Daniels right away about an urgent matter. His tone and the expression on his face were enough to convince the secretary that it was something serious indeed. Five minutes later, he was facing Daniels, about to reveal to him what he had learned from Dr. Perry and what he thought they should do about it. "How can I help you, Mister Dunn? My secretary said you had a pressing issue you wished to see me about."

"I'm afraid so, sir."

Instead of trying to explain it, Miles handed over the flash drive to the headmaster. He obviously wasn't too familiar with computers, searching for the right slot to put it in. Looking perplexed, Mr. Daniels finally plugged it in and after some tries, began to skim over the documents. Miles sat and waited patiently, trying to read the headmaster's face as the man went through them. He was unaware that his knee was bouncing up and down from the anxiety, instead focusing on Mr. Daniel's eyes which first squinted as he read, then became wider as realization set in.

"Are these real?" the headmaster asked as he looked up at Miles.

"I can't say with certainty, sir, but they appear to be genuine to me. I emailed a few of them to an old military buddy of mine and he said the same. The digital signatures and watermarks are official, and as far as my source and I know, they can't be faked."

"Where did you get them?"

"From Doctor Perry, Matthew's father. He works with the CDC and sent me the documents because he was concerned about the safety of his son. He wanted to ensure that we would take every possible precaution in case it actually does spread this far."

Miles didn't think it was necessary to relay the entire message to Mr. Daniels, primarily the part about his recent guardianship over Matthew. Perhaps later on, but for now, he thought it best to keep that information to himself, at least until they had a better idea of what would happen in the near future.

"My God," Daniels whispered, and because he couldn't think of anything else to say, he repeated the phrase.

"Sir," Miles said, "with your permission, I would like to assemble some of the leading staff for a small conference about the situation. I think it would be wise to only pass this information along to a few chosen members for now, otherwise it might induce a panic."

"Yes, I agree. Until we have a better grasp of the situation, it would be best to disclose this only to a select few."

Mr. Daniels continued to read the files for a few more minutes, then turned his attention back towards Miles.

"You say Matthew Perry's father sent you these?"

"Yes, sir."

The headmaster opened up a web browser and typed some things in the search bar.

"Before we call this meeting, I would like to vet Doctor Perry. I would like to be sure that he is still employed and in good standing with the CDC. We wouldn't want to take precautions if it ends up the man is non compos mentis, if you know what I mean."

"Of course."

Miles had no doubts that the man was sane. After all, he had been so upset that he had left Miles in charge of his son until further notice. Still, it wouldn't hurt to double-check.

Mr. Daniels picked up his phone and dialed the number for the CDC that he had pulled off the website. Miles continued to bounce his knee nervously as the headmaster spoke to somebody over the phone, looking more and more grim by the moment. After fifteen minutes, the majority of which was being placed on hold, the headmaster thanked the person and hung up the phone.

"Well," he said with a sigh, "I wasn't able to get much since they aren't able to give out personal information over the phone, but after explaining that I was the headmaster at his son's school, I did manage to find out that he is still employed there and is credible."

Miles nodded as though he already knew this, which technically, he did.

"Mister Dunn," the headmaster went on, "I am going to go ahead and call this emergency meeting. In the few hours between now and then, I think we should start discussing what course of action to take and who should be at the meeting."

"I agree," said Miles.

Ninety minutes later, they had the semblance of a plan and the headmaster was assembling a meeting with the heads of staff for one o'clock that afternoon. Till then, they remained in Daniels' office comparing notes, exchanging ideas, and refining how they would present the situation to the rest of the staff and student body. Feeling as though some of the weigh had been lifted off his shoulders, Miles finally stopped bouncing his knee.

***

Carl Fisher was anticipating the coming evening. He had listened with envy to Thorvald's recount of his weekend and the man's high appreciation of Milo Hughes, who he wished to see as often as possible. Carl had set the boy aside specifically for the purpose of pleasing his friend, but he himself had not yet had a personal taste of what the child had to offer. He had arranged things so that he would be able to correct that small matter within the next few days. He had forgotten to ask if Ivor wanted the boy exclusively, he would have to check that first before trying anything.

The rest of his conversation with Ivor had been less pleasant, the wealthy man asking him to put an end to Greg's transgressions. The prefect's conduct with Anthony had been unacceptable, according to Thorvald, and was putting them all in jeopardy. Carl had halfheartedly agreed and promised that he would take measures to correct the situation.

Regrettably, he had a soft spot for Greg. He had never been able to say no to the boy or get too angry with him. He considered the prefect to be the closest thing to a son that he would ever have. He was extremely conscious of the boy's qualities and shortcomings, and lately had not been able to get Greg to accept his sage counseling. Carl was apprehensive of the future, feeling that the boy was slipping away and choosing to follow a path that could lead them both to a dead end.

Carl had been working on a test for his students when the phone rang, and he was told that a department head meeting was being called for one that afternoon. It was unheard of to call a meeting on such short notice, especially without a well-known agenda. Miss Eldrich seemed to be clueless about the whole thing. Her maladroitness was annoying Carl to no end.

"But why, Miss Eldrich? Do you know the reason?"

"No, not really, only that it seemed important and that Mister Dunn hasn't left Mister Daniels' office since this morning, probably a security matter."

A feeling of dread crawled up Carl's belly and washed over him like a creeping spider.

"But do you know what they're talking about? Have there been any other visitors?"

"No, no one. They haven't mentioned anything about it to me, I agree that it is quite unusual."

"Thank you Rose, tell Mister Daniels that I'll be there," he hesitated a moment, then added, "If you hear anything of interest, be sure to call me please."

"Of course Carl, I'll keep you informed."

He hung up the phone, took a few moments to regain his composure, and then dialed Thorvald's number.

"Carl?" came the voice on the other end of the line.

"Ivor, sorry to have to bother you again but Daniels is calling some kind of emergency meeting at the request of the new security guy, Dunn. He's the one that's been conducting an investigation the last few days. I've got a bad feeling, have you heard anything on your end? Has anyone warned you of anything?"

"Far as I know, there's nothing going on. No one on the board has been notified of any problems. I'll make a few calls, if you want; I'm rather busy with the situation of the world right now. However, I can come over if you think it's necessary."

"No, no, let's not rush to conclusions yet. Let's wait it out and see what happens."

"It's not Anthony, I hope?"

"No, things are under control regarding Anthony. He's not very happy, for sure, but he would never say anything about us to outsiders."

"That's true, he's a good boy. I'll call you back if I hear anything."

"I'll do the same, see you."

Carl was trying to reason with himself. He had talked with Anthony the day before, renewed his trust in the boy, and had promised him a lot if he managed to bring down the new head of security, Miles Dunn. Had the boy screwed it up? Instead of entrapping the man, had Anthony confessed to him? He had been angry, but he was also afraid of Greg. Carl had said he would settle the issue with the prefect and that the boy had nothing to fear anymore. Had the simple promise been enough? Carl was rarely wrong; he supposed that he would know soon enough, anyway.

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew deep down that Greg was responsible for that whole mess. The reason that there was an investigation in the first place was because of the prefect and his little gang. Carl should have put things in order long ago, but he had been careless, blinded by his fondness for the prefect. He had thought that since Greg would be graduating in less than two months, the inquiry would simply go away and everything would go back to normal. Now, however, it seemed very likely he had been wrong. There was nothing he could do about it for the time being; he could only wait until Dunn revealed what he had uncovered.

He tried to take his mind off his concerns by resuming his work, but it wasn't happening. He simply couldn't get his mind away from the potential problem, no matter how hard he tried. Frustrated, Carl angrily threw his pen against the top of his desk, watching it bounce off and land somewhere on the floor.

Opening the bottom drawer on his desk, he pulled out the decanter containing the Scotch that he kept stashed away. Forgoing the glass, he yanked off the crystal stopper and took a large swing. It may not be a good idea to drink right now, but he certainly needed it. He took another swig, grimaced as the smoky sting hit his throat, then replaced the stopper and put it back in the drawer. Feeling a little better, he calmly rose from his chair and began hunting down the elusive pen that he had just thrown.

***

At one p.m. sharp, the meeting started. There was a tense atmosphere in the room, and subconsciously, all of the participants felt that something quite serious was about to take place. "Miss Cahill, gentlemen, thank you for your presence and accepting the change to your schedules on such short notice. I've invited our nurse, Miss Cahill, and Mister Hartz from facilities to sit in as well. As you will soon see, they will most certainly be needed."

Mr. Daniels took a moment to allow them to acknowledge Miss Cahill and Mr. Hartz before moving on to the rest of the introductions.

"By now, you should all recognize Mister Dunn, our current head of security. Miles, please let me introduce to you Raymond Tools, Roger Shaft, Ted Ackerton, Jon Kent, and of course, Carl Fisher. Some of you may not be fully acquainted with each other just yet, but that should change soon. Before we begin, I must first ask each and every one of you to keep everything disclosed here today to yourself. I must insist that you do not discuss any of this outside of this room, and that you do so only with those in attendance today. Make no exceptions for anyone unless you have first cleared it with me."

Like the other eight persons present, Carl Fisher was exchanging curious and worried looks with his peers. His attention seemed to be primarily focused upon Dunn, who remained silent and absorbed in the examination of some notes that lay in front of him.

"Now that I have made myself perfectly clear regarding the secrecy of this matter, I'll turn you over to Mister Dunn, who will explain what it is all about. Miles?"

Miles cleared his throat and looked up from his notes to glance at each individual before beginning.

"Yes, thank you headmaster Daniels. Being new here, I'm afraid that I don't know most of you very well. However, after discussing the situation with Mister Daniels, he suggested that I immediately meet with you chosen few to make everything clear. What I have to tell you is not going to be easy to tell, nor will it be easy to hear. Please don't hesitate to stop me and ask questions if you need clarifications."

After nervously shuffling his notes for a second, Miles went on.

"I received a call yesterday evening from one of my military contacts, and he had some alarming news for me; actually, for all of us."

Miles again took a moment to look around the table, noting that he had the full attention of his audience. He was a little surprised to see Carl Fisher look more relaxed than before, with the hint of a smile hiding in the corners of his mouth.

"By now, I'm sure that you are all aware of the events in China and now a few other countries. My friend confided in me that it was only the start of a pandemic, and that the US would be affected within the next few weeks – strongly affected, like every country in the world. He told me a quarantine was to be expected, as well as martial law, and that the death toll is expected to be high. He said that the authorities are getting ready for a major crisis that will affect all of us. The purpose of this meeting is to prepare for the upcoming crisis.

"My source told me to call a Doctor Perry at the CDC and sent me a few classified documents that I should read before talking with him. After reading the documents, I called the doctor who confirmed everything and begged me to take this matter extremely seriously, even going as far as to evoke the flu pandemic of nineteen-eighteen that killed millions, more than the First World War."

"Of course, we have checked this doctor's credentials and it appears that he is quite reliable," interjected Daniels.

Ackerton, the German and French Language teacher suddenly piped up.

"So, perhaps we should close the school and send the boys back home, huh? Wouldn't they be much better off there with their families?"

"We thought of doing this, but it is out of the question for the time being. We have no credible basis yet, no authority to do so and it would be a logistical nightmare, many of our boy's parents are very busy people. If things get serious though, we might ask our students to stay with their families after the upcoming weekend. I think there are federal and State procedures that could be applied if it became necessary later on. Ackerton, would you take responsibility and make sure that we are up to date on them? For now, we have many other matters to take care of."

Ackerton solemnly nodded his approval, allowing Miles to continue.

"So what should we do?" asked Carl Fisher, seeming to have recovered his need for initiative.

"What we plan on doing for now is to prepare for a major crisis and keep our fingers crossed that it won't hit us."

"But you think it will," said Fisher.

"Yes, I believe so," answered Miles.

"So the question still stands; what do we do?"

"We are coming up with a list of steps that need to be taken. I think that first and foremost, we have to inventory all that we have at the school, and over the next few days we need to make sure that we replenish all our reserves. This includes food, water, fuel, medicines, tools, and batteries. Perhaps we can even double our capacity for some of them. Food should be prioritized to reduce the amount of waste; fresh food should be eaten first, followed by frozen foods and leaving the canned and freeze-dried foods for last.

"We have to check that everything that we're going to need is in working order, notably vehicles and generators. Mister Hartz will be in charge of that. I'll ask Miss Cahill to get in contact with the local hospital and ask to be informed of any news or procedures. All of you will get a checklist when you leave, which you will be responsible for. It must be done within the next twenty-four hours, earlier if possible."

"I think we should alert our colleagues," said Mr. Ackerton, "after all, they have a right to know. Some of them have families which they might like to go to."

"Nothing is certain, but we must prepare and set priorities. I expect each and every one of you to stand at your post and do your best to face this time of crisis. Our responsibility is to the boys, we must assure the safety of our students as best we can. They will all be informed in due time, but until we learn the scope of the problem, I don't want to create a mass panic. Let's get all the preparations done first."

"How do we protect ourselves? We'll need masks, medications…" Mr. Hartz's voice trailed off.

"Unfortunately from what we were told, there is no known cure yet. Miss Cahill will watch out for that information, if it becomes available. We will need to isolate the sick for the safety of the other students and staff. I thought of moving the infirmary to the gymnasium"

"The gymnasium? That's one big space. How many of us do you think will get sick?"

Mr. Daniels cleared his throat to answer the question.

"If the doctor's predictions are correct, there will be many, I'm afraid. Naturally, those that accept the task of caring for them will be provided with masks and gloves. One of the problems is that the virus is already here. Mister Dunn?"

"Yes sir, from what I understood the Shanxi virus has been spreading all over the world since October, in a mild and benign manifestation. It seems to have kept in a quiescent state and then started to reawaken later on, this time in a much more aggressive and often lethal form. Many of us could very well be infected already, even though we haven't felt any of the symptoms. Doctor Perry equated it to AIDS, where the real disease occurs years after the contamination. The difference being that this virus is airborne and the disease is occurring mere months after the initial infection."

Miles' words sent a chill throughout the room. Then, almost everybody started to speak at once, each person voicing their doubts, fears, and anxieties. Slowly but steadily with the help of Tools and Fisher, Daniels was able to restore some order.

"There are a lot of uncertainties in what we've gleaned. Please, let's do this one step at a time and work together. You all have been given your assignments, let's meet again tomorrow at five and see what has been accomplished."

"Mister Perry said that he would send me a few more documents to study. We might have more information to give you after I've gone over them," added Miles.

"Perry… do you mean Matthew Perry's father?" asked Carl Fisher.

"No, he isn't my source."

Carl raised an eyebrow when Miles denied that Dr. Perry was his contact. Fisher may or may not know that he was lying, but for now, Miles decided not to divulge this information.

"Let's get to work," said the headmaster, "all of your normal duties are canceled for the time being. Please assign your students to other teachers over the next two days, after that we will see what's to come next."

While the others left the room, looking unnerved and speaking to each other in hushed tones, Daniels and Dunn returned to the headmaster's office. Miles was rather satisfied with the way the meeting had turned out. Daniels knew his troops well and how to utilize each one's unique skills to help. Miles and the headmaster worked on a few more details before deciding to watch the news, checking to see if there were any new developments that morning about the Shanxi flu.

The reporter was in the middle of talking about how it was not just confined to Asia, but that similar incidents were occurring throughout many other nations. The correspondent never said it directly, but hinted at the possibility that there were already cases in the US. Quarantines had been declared all over, and China was practically in a state of anarchy. Miles and Daniels exchanged a look that spoke louder than words. Perry had told the truth, the flu was definitely coming, and it was spreading fast. After a few more words were swapped between them Miles also left the headmaster's office, going to his room to get the flash drive and check his email.

He was walking around the football field where a few kids were training for Lacrosse, a sport recently introduced to the School, when someone called his name. It was Carl Fisher who caught up with him. The man was quite frank, telling Miles that he wanted to know the whole story and not just what Daniels had wanted them to know. Miles still had a rather good opinion of the teacher, even if his name had come up several times during the interviews with the students. He did not want to oppose the senior teacher in a direct way, and he was trying to find the right words to achieve that effect when he heard shouts coming from the field.

Carl was standing in front of him, so he could not see what the commotion was about. Probably just the kids playing, he figured. However, an instant later, his military instincts kicked in when he saw a metallic flash of light, like the muzzle flash of a weapon, reflecting the sun slightly to his left.

Someone was moving across the field at a rapid but irregular pace.

***

Again, there was another flash of light. On the field, Sven was the first to see the intruder and immediately gripped his Lacrosse stick tighter. He was sure he had seen this man before, but the guy shouldn't have been on the field during practice.. He was quickly moving straight towards Sven's friend William, who was defending the goal. The man's motions seemed strange, his movements somewhat jerky. His face distorted was in an ugly grimace and his clothes were in disarray and speckled by something. Is that… blood?

The man was definitely going for the goal, and coming from behind, he had not been noticed by anybody until that moment. Sven was too shocked at first to shout any kind of warning, but when he noticed the bloodied machete in the man's hands, he quickly found his voice.

"Watch out, William, behind you!"

A few of the other players quickly turned around to look towards the goal, and they too began to shout warnings. Unfortunately, they were just a little too late. The crazy-looking man had struck, and William had fallen to the ground.

Before the man could strike again, Sven leaped towards the man, vaulting himself over his wounded friend and using his Lacrosse stick to block the next attack. The man was far stronger than Sven, and the boy was easily pushed backwards by the force of the impact. He was able to block a few more blows, but inevitably lost his balance and fell backwards onto his bum. In a final desperate attempt, he halfheartedly raised his stick to protect himself, squinting his eyes in fear and confusion as he waited for the inevitable deathblow.

A shadow obscured the sun from Sven's vision and was replaced by the glint of the machete, but the blow never came. Mr. Dunn had run across the field and thrown himself, empty-handed, at the snarling menace.

Mr. Dunn took the man down and they began fighting in the grass, rolling around like a pair of pit bulls in a dog fight. At first, an eerie silence settled over the field. This was quickly replaced with the shouts and cries of the boys surrounding them. The machete had fallen from the madman's hand when he had gone down and now lay harmlessly in the grass beside the grappling duo. Mr. Dunn seemed confident at first, but was soon destabilized by the man's apparent strength.

Sven quickly hopped back up onto his feet. Holding his stick with both hands, he started landing blows on the strange man's back, but they seemed to have no visible effect. He tried to hit the man's head but missed, his swing landing on Mr. Dunn's shoulder.

At that moment, William sat up. Sven could see that although he was stunned, his protective gear had left him practically unharmed. The boy tried to get up, but fell to his knees again. He seemed to be unaware that a full out brawl was taking place right beside him. Sven ran to his fallen friend but before he could reach him, their aggressor, helped by the boy's mishap, had escaped Mr. Dunn's clutches and seized the confused boy by the throat

***

When the aggressor attacked the goaltender, Miles had sprung into action. While Sven bravely fought the man using only a lacrosse stick, Miles sprinted down the full hundred yards of the field as quickly as he could. With ten yards to go, Sven had tripped backwards and landed on his rear. The boy held his stick up with one hand to block the attack, but it wasn't going to be enough. The attacker was obviously much stronger than the frightened child, and the next swing was destined to separate Sven's head from his shoulders.

As the lunatic raised his machete for the killing blow, Miles dove at him, catching the man in the midsection. Both men fell to the ground and the machete tumbled out of the attacker's hand, landing a few feet away. With the blade safely out of reach, Miles focused on the squirming man beneath him, channeling his military experience at hand-to-hand combat to pummel the man with well-aimed blows to the face and body.

The man was surprisingly strong, and seemed to shrug off the powerful blows as though Miles was barely touching him. The maniac struggled with him for a few minutes, neither of them gaining the advantage as they rolled around on the grass. Out of the corner of his eye, Miles saw Sven using his stick to land blows on the man's back. Yet despite the onslaught, the crazed man was still looking up hungrily at the injured boy he had first attacked.

Miles could feel the man's weight when he passed above him, trying to regain his footing. Then, he felt a sudden sharp pain in his right shoulder. Sven had missed, surprised by an unexpected shift of the two bodies fighting fiercely in front of him. Miles felt almost panicky, realizing the blow had made him lose his grip. With surprising force, the man escaped from his grasp and leaped towards the confused goaltender, grabbing him around the throat.

Miles rolled over onto his feet and was quickly upon the madman once again, trying every way he knew to get the man to release the scared kid, but to no avail. He tried prying the man's arms apart, and when that didn't work, he started raining blows down upon his assailant. The man never once flinched, but retained his death grip on the boy's throat. Sven had lost his lacrosse stick and was staying back, probably petrified and afraid of making another mistake.

Miles could see the boy's eyes bulging and his face beginning to turn blue, the man's tight grip crushing the tender throat without mercy. Miles felt helpless until he saw Sven by his side, holding out the machete for him. He immediately seized it and after two or three blows that had no real effect, he used it to skewer the aggressor's head, the blade entering through his gaping mouth, and exiting the other side, just above the neck. Miles, Sven, and the goaltender were all sprayed with a geyser of dark red blood.

At last, the deadly crushing had stopped and the boy fell back to the earth, wheezing and holding his throat as he fought to catch his breath. Oblivious of the blood that speckled his uniform and skin, Sven had retrieved his stick. Miles took one look at it and knew that it was ruined. With dread, he could see the deep gashes made in the wood by the machete. Sven was certainly a brave kid; Miles had no doubt about it.

Miles pulled the blade out of the dead body, his arm still shuddering from the violence of his thrust. Around him, the other players were frozen in place. Some were horrified, others stunned or fascinated, and some of them were crying in fear of what had just taken place. Beyond the group of Lacrosse players, Carl Fisher and Arthur Banks, who had been refereeing the game, stood beside each other, looking shocked. Miles felt a little angry that they hadn't jumped in to help, but then again, what should he expect from civilians?

Before he could say another word, Sven had come to him, shaking and seeking refuge and comfort in his arms. Miles welcomed him warmly, holding the boy in a tight embrace and gently stroking the weeping child's hair as he tried to make sense of what had just occurred.

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