Tom and Luke's Final Year Pt. 01

I had actually started in the lab a week before the beginning of term, but of course had to take a couple of days off to move into college and get all the paperwork for the new academic year completed. Dr Mills, my lab supervisor was very pleasant and helpful, and already I was beginning to feel at home with the technicians and the research students. It turned out that Dr Mills could remember Luke's cofather Jon, when he had been a postdoc. He told me that (although Luke did not know it), David had created a small sensation at the time as being one of the first gay chemistry students to come out of the closet. Things had changed in twenty years. One of the technicians had already told me that he was gay. How he knew that I was, I never found out. Maybe he had a very strong sense of gaydar, or maybe one of my fellow students had told him. All the fourth-year students knew that I batted for the other side.

My dear fag-hag Margaret was back for her third year and we had already booked to go to a couple of concerts. Luke was fed up about one of them: he said that he would have liked to go. So I got him a ticket, and after I had made him swear not to finger or caress me during the event, we went as a threesome, Margaret sitting between us! It was a chamber music recital with a well-known string quartet, and they were playing Schubert's 'Rosamunde' quartet and one by Mozart and one by Haydn. The playing was outstanding and when we afterwards went to the pub, we were all three deeply impressed by what we had heard. "Oh, I do wish that Sarah and I could go to concerts together like you two do," said Margaret enviously.

"We're enjoying it all the more since we've only been to one concert together in the last year," I said, "and then we couldn't sit together, because I was performing with the choir!"

"What's more, you have someone to come and listen to you when you're performing," said Margaret, "whereas Sarah won't come and listen when I sing in the Bach choir."

"Don't let it worry you," Luke said "just concentrate on thinking what you might do in bed together when you get back to college!" Margaret blushed, and so did I.

"Luke, you are a crude bugger! No civilized man would say that to a girl!" I said.

"Why not? I haven't asked any personal questions. I'm quite sure that Margaret and Sarah do not spend their evenings holding hands and cuddling, even though that is very enjoyable."

"Your problem is that because you were brought up exclusively by men, you no idea how to speak to a lady!" I said indignantly.

"It's all right, Tom," said Margaret, "I have two brothers and they are just as crude as Luke and make the same sort of remarks. There's something about two women making love together that men don't understand, whereas most women, gay or straight, seem able to understand two men making love."

"And yet it's quite OK for two women to dance together, but men can only do it in a gay bar."

"Dancing's not like fucking," said Luke. "Dancing is a public activity and can involve lots of people. Fucking only requires two people."

"Luke, you are an expert at stating the obvious. You'll never get a first if you come up with statements like that in your exams!"

"You're just like my Pop! He's always accusing Dad of coming out profoundly with something blindingly obvious. But, Margaret, if both you and Sarah did everything together and only had interests in common you would soon get bored. It's terribly important for couples not to live in each other's pockets. In any case, if you did, you would never have met Tom."

My catechumen classes with Francis Eglantine continued at weekly intervals. We had made good progress over the summer, and Luke had been amazed when he got back from Bologna to find that I now said my prayers each night. He quoted the passage from the second gospel about becoming a child to receive God and said to me, "Tom, God has put His arm round you and will soon make you His. Just as I responded to your love, you have responded to God's! God will always love you and so will I." Then he embraced me enthusiastically and taught me how to make the sign of the cross, the most important thing, he told me, in personal devotion after praying. I'm a bit ashamed to confess that Luke's lesson ended with me giving him a blow-job.

Our study pattern that year was very different from our second year. I was busy in the lab from nine till after 5 pm, and sometimes on Saturdays also. Luke had reverted to his usual pattern of lectures in his major of Italian plus one tutorial per week. His tutor, Dr Cagliari had been so glad to see him back safely after the earthquake that he had begun the term by throwing a drinks party for all his final-year students at which numerous bottles of Prosecco were consumed. (Buckingham gave all its tutors a generous student hospitality allowance.) But Luke's language tuition classes had now ended, so there were no more small-group sessions with bright and attractive female students. What was certain was that he and I would not see each other between 9 am and 6 pm during the week, unless I made a special effort to walk to college for lunch in the beer cellar. Luke started listening during the day to Italian radio broadcasts on the internet. Small wonder then that we kept the evenings free, except if Luke had a deadline to meet with a tutorial essay.

I insisted on one trip to the Rialto every week, even if the film was not an Italian one! We tried to cram swimming, cinema and lovemaking into Saturday on weeks when I did not have to go into the lab. On Sundays Luke and I started going in the mornings to Saint Margaret's, a high Anglican church in the city centre, with a strong choral tradition. Not quite up to the standard of All Saints, Margaret Street in London, which was Dad's favourite church, but it tried very hard. In the afternoon, weather permitting, we would go for a walk or take one of the college punts on the river. Sunday evenings followed their usual pattern of chapel, dinner in hall and pub. We saw little of either of Luke's parents. Even in the evenings, we did not always go out together: I had my Bach Choir rehearsals, my catechumen classes and often a concert with Margaret. Luke would usually stay in and read, although sometimes he would go out with the other students of Italian who were in their fourth year. Then it was my turn to stay in and read. We both had an hour a week in practice for the chapel choir and a pub evening, sometimes but not always, with Steve and Alex. Work had started on the extensions to the Men's Fitness Centre, and the centre was somewhat disrupted in its activities by the building work.

Chapter Eighteen

Literary interlude

During Luke's absence in Italy, one of the things that I did as relaxation before the exams and during my time at the Men's Fitness Centre was to start reading the metaphysical poets of the seventeenth century. My interest in these had been sparked by Luke when in our first year he had given me John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester's 'Sodom' to read. As you will have gathered, I was rather taken with John Cleveland, difficult though he is, but as the anthology was alphabetical, by now in my spare moments, I had got on to Abraham Cowley. Cowley was a much more congenial author, he wrote in intelligible 'non-poetic' English. The poem of Cowley's that I liked the best was called 'Platonic Love.' Like all the seventeenth-century poets, no distinction is made between love of God, love of man for woman and love of man for man. So I really appreciated the first two stanzas:

'Indeed I must confess,

When souls mix 'tis an happiness,

But not complete till bodies too do join,

And both our wholes into one whole combine;

But half of heaven the souls in glory taste

Till by love in heaven at last

Their bodies too are placed

In thy immortal part

Man, as well as I, thou art.

But something 'tis that differs thee and me,

And we must one even in that difference be.

I thee both as a man and woman prize,

For a perfect love implies

Love in all capacities.'

Luke was not impressed by my excursion into the minor poets of English literature. I told him that he should be. He seemed to think that as one who had been immersed for several years in the works of Petrarch, Ariosto and Dante, he was the world's expert on European poetry. In conversation with his Dad, I knew all about the religious importance of love poetry, before the demolition job of Milton and Dryden and the worldly attitudes of the so-called 'enlightened' eighteenth century, and Francis, my mentor/spiritual director agreed with David's thesis that we can only understand God's love by experiencing human love. I felt that in Cowley's second stanza was a clear allusion to man-man love, 'love in all capacities.'

By now Francis had become more than a mentor, I counted him a friend, and hoped to retain him after my baptism as a spiritual director, though this would be difficult if I had to leave England. I began the term by giving him a bottle of Marsala as a present. We were now studying Paul's letters, and I pointed out to him Galatians 6:6: 'When anyone is under instruction in the faith, he should give his teacher a share of whatever good things he has.'

"I'll give you a bottle each term!" I said "After all, I've drunk a lot of yours."

"Actually, it's paid for by a college allowance!" he said. "But thank you, Tom, I appreciate it very much."

Chapter Nineteen

The Provost's party

Early in November, the Provost of Buckingham held a series of parties, some five in all, to which all the final-year students of the college were invited. It was not clear why the events took place at the time that they did. They could not be farewell parties, as we all had two further full terms residence. The events were typical college drinks parties, which meant that their duration and the amount of alcohol served was strictly limited. They took place for about twenty finalists at a time in the Provost's Lodgings, and his wife and two teenage children, one son and one daughter, circulated, filling up our glasses. The son was an attractive boy of sixteen, and it was amusing to see the appraising glances that he elicited from a significant number of the assembled students. The daughter, somewhat older, also drew her share of looks from the straight men in the party. The Provost and his wife circulated and chatted with each of the men present, mainly asking them what their plans were after they had gone down. Luke and I were invited to separate events. Most of the other finalists were from the year below us, including Alex and Steve. I wore the Giorgio Armani suit that I had been (sweetly) coerced by Luke into buying when I came into my unexpected wealth from Mrs Singleton. In my group there was only one other fourth year student present, reading classical history and philosophy.

It was two years since I had last met the head of our college, and he asked me what I hoped to do on graduation. I said that I wanted to do research, but for personal reasons was unable to stay in Camford to do a Ph.D., and that I hoped to get into an Italian university. He advised me to contact someone whom I had never met in the Italian Institute in Camford and he gave me a second name of a contact in the Dante Institute in London. He winked as he shook hands with me and said that a stay in Italy would be a good opportunity to enlarge my wardrobe! When he filled up my glass, I got talking to the Provost's son. I asked him what his future intentions were. He said that he hoped to get into Oxbridge to read Natural Sciences. I noticed that he appeared to be eyeing me up, and wondered if he was gay, or merely interested in clothes. I do not believe it to be true that only gay men are interested in men's fashion. Moreover many gays are like Luke's Dad David, who doesn't give a shit about clothes, (except when it comes to public appearances, when he is obsessive about formal clothing).

Luke's experience at the Provost's was entirely different. The Provost saw himself as a man of culture and advised Luke to exploit his father's reputation in musical circles to get letters of introduction to influential people in the Italian cultural world. Luke then realized that he should approach Marcello Fabioni, his godmother's husband, and creator of David's singing career. Although Marcello was now an old man, Luke had always looked up to him with great affection, and he still wielded great influence in world musical circles.

A couple of days after the Provost's party, I went to the Italian Institute and asked to see Dr Saltieri, the academic whose name had been given me by the Provost, just to sound him out about the prospects of doing a Ph.D. in chemistry in Italy, and how it might be financed. He told me that my best bet was to apply well in advance to an EU organization called the Young Scholars' Leonardo Fund, which specialized in financial support for EU graduates wishing to do further study and research in other EU lands. I obtained the necessary forms, and my tutor Colin helped me fill them in, and told me whom in the department I should seek academic references from. There were pages and pages of paperwork to fill in.

Chapter Twenty

An unexpected visit leads to sexual consequences

One afternoon Luke was sitting in our room when the phone rang. It was the porter's lodge. There was a visitor for him. Without asking who it was, Luke hurried across to the lodge, where a smartly dressed young man was waiting. "Hello, Luke!" said the stranger. It was Mark, Luke's old school friend, who had first introduced him to gay sex.

"Mark!" exclaimed Luke, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm in Camford on business. When I graduated last July, I was offered a job with a firm of scientific instrument makers as a technical manager. My job is to visit research laboratories to see whether they have developed any interesting apparatus that might be capable of commercial exploitation, which we then produce and market on a revenue-sharing basis. This makes it much easier for bodies like universities to exploit their IP without the hassle and cost of setting up a spin-off company. We work with spin-offs of course as well. As I was about to visit the Camford Chemical Laboratory, I thought I would pop in and see you for old times' sake. My first appointment is not until tomorrow morning, so I wondered if you would like to come out for a drink and dinner."

"In principle, yes, but I need to wait until my room-mate gets back, so that I can tell him that I'm not going in to dinner. He's my fiancé, you see, so I need to tell him that I'll be out. He'll be back just after six."

"So! You're engaged are you? Well, in that case let's go for a drink in a pub now and come back at six and take him with us. I'm very curious to meet the man that you fancy."

"You'll be able to talk technicalities if you like, because he's a chemist."

"Better and better!"

So when I got back to college, Luke and a stranger were waiting for me. Luke introduced the smartly dressed young man as Mark Ravenscroft, an old school friend. "Luke has told me about you, Mark," I said "you were his first gay experience!" I noticed that Mark was eyeing me appraisingly, but I could not draw any conclusion about what he thought. Not that it mattered. We all went to the Sparrowhawk to eat, with Mark assuring us that he could charge the bill to his expenses. I had always thought of Luke as an assertive person, but compared with Mark he was a shrinking violet! But Mark was not unattractive. He obviously paid attention to his body and kept himself fit. Like Luke he was a natty dresser. It was inevitable I suppose that Luke would ask Mark about his love life (or maybe sex life would be a better description, as he did not seem to have formed any real attachments in his three years at Oxbridge). He was a frequenter of gay pubs it seemed, and picked up men that he fancied on an almost random basis. He told us a few hair-raising stories about his sexual encounters, and we got through quite a lot of beer. Towards the end of the evening, we invited him back to college for coffee, a move that was perhaps not altogether wise.

He told us more stories about his sexual adventures, most of which involved anal sex in places where his activities could potentially be observed. I asked him if he had any intention of finding a permanent partner, and he said no, that he preferred the thrill of fucking total strangers. I told him that he was a prime candidate for AIDS. He replied that he was tested regularly and had got all the information about antiviral drugs, just in case the worst happened, in spite of always using a condom. "'Never go out without a raincoat' is my motto!" he told us.

"Don't you mean never go IN without a raincoat?" replied Luke with a grin. Mark asked us what the best cruising place in Camford was and we said that we didn't know, but suggested that he visit the Randy Soldier, the pub near the theatre frequented by gays. "They close at midnight," said Luke, "so if you go now you might just be able to get an assignment."

"OK, I'll see you tomorrow, Tom!" said Mark, "Maybe we could have lunch together."

"OK," I replied. "I'll meet you in the Chemistry canteen at 12-30."

After Mark had gone to try and find a quick fuck, Luke said to me, "Well, what did you think of the boy who taught me about sex?"

"I think he's dangerous," I replied, "dangerous both to himself and to others!"

"Tom," said Luke, "if he wants to suck you off, or if he wants you to suck him, I don't mind. I have very sweet memories of what he and I did together as schoolboys. But I agree that he is a potential danger, and don't under any circumstances let things get anal."

The next day, I was busy with a synthesis, and was anxious to get my crystalline product ready to dry in the oven over lunchtime. So, five minutes late, I entered the cafeteria, to find Mark looking at the menu on the wall. "We could go out, you know," I said, "we don't have to eat institutional food."

"I'm seeing Dr Q and your laboratory superintendent at 2 pm, so I think that there's not enough time to go out," he replied. We ordered our food at the cafeteria and went into a quiet corner to eat. "I never thought that Luke would go for a muscular type," said Mark. "I envisaged him cuddling up to some little guy with blond curly hair who would fuck the shit out of him!"

"What makes you think that I don't fuck the shit out of him?" I asked. "But I don't want to talk about matters that are private to Luke and me. You don't have any proprietary rights over him, you know. Not that I mind what you both did at school. Life is a learning experience. Speaking personally, I don't resent the two of you being friends, and if you're gay, you have to learn what to do from someone or somewhere. I spent my teenage years lusting after straight boys, so I had to learn from the internet. Luke won't talk to you about me and I won't talk to you about what we do together. But he's my partner for life, and I will beat to pulp anyone who tries to take him from me!"

"No question about that as far as I am concerned" replied Mark, "I'm not the marrying kind! I want sex without strings. I'm quite content to leave Luke to you. The boy I had last night had obviously had a lot of experience and was a good lay. There's plenty of nice boys in this town!

"I notice that both you and Luke use Storing pour Homme," he continued, "that's the biggest gay giveaway since Oscar Wilde was found to have trousers with slits instead of pockets to facilitate wanking!"

"That doesn't worry either of us. Everyone we know in Camford knows that we're gay. We're not in the closet and never have been. The only time that I'm in the closet is when I'm having a shit! And I thought that Oscar Wilde's big giveaway was the spunk on the sheets at the Savoy Hotel."