BOYS OF
PICCADILLY
English Schoolboy
novel by
Kurt Kendall
e-Book by
GLB Publishers
San Francisco
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
FIRST EDITION
Copyright © 2001by Kurt
Kendall
All rights reserved. Printed in the
U.S.A.
No part of this publication may
be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and
retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing
from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages
in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper
or broadcast.
Published in the United States by
GLB Publishers
P.O. Box 78212, San Francisco, CA 94107 USA
Cover by GLB Publishers
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination
or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 1-879194-85-6 (Base is PDF)
Library of Congress Card
Number:
2001086656
An e-Book Edition produced for Internet
downloading 2001
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BOYS OF
PICCADILLY
by
Kurt Kendall
Chapter 1
I guess you could say the beginning
of my fourteenth year was pretty exciting. I mean, after all, it was pretty
much a 'coming out' year for me. I'll explain that later!
My dad and mom were on another
'temporary' separation, actually this time I was sure the divorce
was soon to follow. But they still insisted on calling it 'temporary'. It
happened a few times before. When I was eleven, but that separation lasted
only two months. Then it happened again when I was twelve, lasting nearly
eight months. Each time they 'separated', they made that decision without
my advice, calling it 'to part ways for a while'. I guess they wanted
to sort things out. Who knows? I thought they always seemed happy. But 'sorting
things out' was what both mom and dad told me in their own separate ways
when I was shuffled back and forth from our house with mom to dad's apartment,
which he kept as an 'investment.' I guess some kids would think it was cool
to have two bedrooms in two different places, but I just went along with
the flow, not really caring … as long as I had a room to call my own,
either one place or the other, and a bed to sleep in.
And now, mom and dad are going
through the third of those 'temporary' separations. After the first one,
when I was eleven, and the second, when I was twelve, they somehow came to
an agreement, again without my input, to get back together and try some new
things. Whatever those might be! But I had a feeling this 'separation'
was permanent.
Like I said, I just turned
fourteen, in May, just last month, and I find myself dividing my time between
mom and dad again. This time, they kept to the same agreement that dad would
live in the apartment and mom would get the house. It doesn't make any difference
to me, really. Like I said, it's cool having two separate bedrooms, and as
long as I have a place to sleep and food to eat, let them work out their
own problems. At just fourteen, I'm starting to become my own man …
well, boy-man.
You see, dad travels a lot with
his company, so he isn't around a lot. Mom's always busy with some women's
group or neighborhood work force, or whatever. So I'm pretty used to being
alone anyway, without their 'temporary' separations.
Right now, I'm with dad. It's
summer. School let out just two weeks ago, and he decided it would be a help
to me to go on a business trip with him … to Europe! I didn't have the
balls to tell him I'm not the one who needs help! But that's beside the point.
Like I said, I started being my own person back when I was eleven during
my parent's first 'temporary' separation.
So I guess I'll let you
join this 'situation' at the present time. An hour ago, we just checked into
the Gillison Hotel somewhere in the heart of London, England. It's a pretty
cool place. Big hotel with big rooms. Actually, dad got a big suite, since
he brought me along, and the business 'paid' for it. So I have a separate
bedroom from his. Kind of like at home … my homes, between
living with mom and dad. So in reality, I now have three bedrooms
to call my own, only this one in London will only be for a week. Anyway,
I just finished unpacking my suitcase of clothes and stuff, and I'm lounging
on the big bed watching some weird channel on London TV …
"All unpacked and settled
in, Taylor?" dad poked his head in my room.
"It was just a small suitcase,
Dad," I rolled my eyes at him. "Took me a big five minutes."
"Well," dad eased himself
into my room and sat on my bed. "Thought we could maybe walk around a bit,
you know? See parts of the city. Hyde Park is just across the street, and
there's much more further down the block. Piccadilly Circus and Trafalgar
Square, and lots of other places you might be interested in. Since we'll
be here a whole week and I'll be gone a lot in meetings, it might be a good
idea to get familiar with this place. You hungry? How about dinner?"
"Dad?" I looked at my watch before
looking at the wall clock. "It's two in the afternoon, America time.
It's ten at night here. We had lunch and dinner on the plane. My
body clock is all screwed up."
"Well, Taylor," he smiled. "You're
going to have to get used to the time here for this week. You can't be eating
dinner at midnight or later."
"Whatever," I mumbled, rolling
off the bed. "I'm still not hungry, but maybe it would be cool to
look around this strange city. At least the programs on TV make it look strange
to me."
"Just be thankful they talk our
language here in England, Taylor," dad chuckled. "We could be in Spain or
Italy and you'd have no idea what anyone was talking about," he
added, ruffling my hair.
Yeah, hair …
I guess I should describe myself so you can picture what I look like, huh?
I'm not a big fourteen-year-old like some of my friends, but I'm
also not a little dweeb, like some of my other friends who are fourteen.
I guess you could call me just an 'average' kid. Personally? I think I look
a lot like David Gallagher from 7th Heaven. My hair is as blond
as his, but much longer, like his used to be a couple years ago.
I'm not sure I like his new haircut with that kind of spiked look. Mine's
longer. A little longer than his was back then. It hangs to just above my
shoulders. Actually, I think I'm just as good looking as David, with almost
the same, thick, dark eyebrows. Much darker than my light blond
hair … and his. Even though I've never met him, I'd say we were the
same size and everything. Well, I don't know what David looks like
nude, but I'd say maybe close to everything!
I'm five-foot-four, and
just at one-o-five pounds. I've got those same hazel-blue eyes, but my smile
doesn't produce the same dimples David can give. Damn! I really
love his dimples! I guess I'm talking crazy, like I'm in love with
the guy! Well …
Dad and I walked out into the cool night air. We
were close enough to the center of the city that the lights made the sky
look like it was stuck in a constant dusk, with a million colors. I thought
it would be cool to see this city of London during the day, and looked forward
to touring it alone, without Dad, tomorrow. But we walked down a few blocks
to Piccadilly Circus. I was actually expecting a real circus, but
it ended up just being a part of the city with shops and bright lights and
lots of people! We even walked a little further to Trafalgar Square,
with Dad telling me about the billions of pigeons that flocked there. Ones
you could feed by buying a little cup of seeds for a penny, or new pence,
or something. Then we circled around a bit and walked back across the street
and up a few blocks. I was really intrigued by the brightly lit and blinking
Piccadilly Circus. Like I said, I associated a circus with animals and clowns
and shit, and this circus was close to that … with people animals,
clowns, and some cool shit!
We found a little place,
actually a hole in the wall really, that sold 'fish 'n chips'. I expected
fish and potato chips, but was pleasantly surprised to see, instead of the
'chips,' thick potato fries! Since I wasn't really hungry, I just ate the
'chips', letting Dad gobble down my fish as he told me to get used to the
food in London. He had a beer. Well, actually, it was an 'ale'. He let me
take a sip, telling me he thought it was pretty legal for boys my age to
drink here. But that foamy stuff was warm and bittersweet, so I was satisfied
to drink my warm Coke instead. I was also starting to wonder if these people
here in England knew about ice or refrigerators!
But it was after our 'dinner'
at that greasy, hole-in-the-wall fish and chips place, at eleven London time,
and four America time, that things happened that made me think my week here
wouldn't be so bad after all.
"Can I look down this way,
Dad?" I asked as we walked out of the little restaurant, definitely smelling
of smoky grease and fish.
"Well sure, Taylor," Dad
said. "We can walk down there."
"No, Dad," I said firmly,
because since this last 'temporary' separation with him and mom, and
me just turning fourteen, I could say it … "I said I wanted
to walk down this way."
"Alone?" he raised his David
Gallagher eyebrows. Oh yeah! That's where I got them from.
"Dad!" I huffed, standing
firm. "If you're going to be in meeting all day long, every day while we're
here, I'm going to have to get used to walking around this city alone. And
I want to walk down this way … alone," I thumbed right over
my shoulder.
"All right," Dad said simply,
not really showing his hurt because I don't really think I hurt his feelings.
"I'll walk this way," he thumbed over his left shoulder.
"I'll meet you back at the
hotel, OK?"
Now he glared at me. "Taylor!
It's after eleven!"
"Dad!" I glared back. "It's
only past four America time. I'm wide awake! I'm not going back to the hotel
and sit around for six or seven hours until I'm tired enough to go to bed.
Give me a break! I'm fourteen! I'm a big boy now! I can handle it on my own
for a little while, like I have pretty much since I was eleven. OK?"
The hurt look in his eyes made
me suddenly feel bad.
"Dad," I said, giving him a hug.
"I'll be all right, OK? After all, I'm smart like my old man," I added with
a smirk. "And there are a ton of people all over the place
here."
He looked at his watch,
which he already re-set on the plane over. It's eleven-twenty here, Taylor.
You better re-set your watch to this time."
I looked at my watch, reading
four-twenty American time. I pushed the buttons to reset it to eleven-twenty,
England time. "Got it, Dad. Eleven-twenty."
"Back at the hotel by midnight?"
he suggested but really more of a demand.
I nodded.
"Midnight, Taylor," he said
firmly. "Or I'll call Scotland Yard."
"But we're in England,
Dad!" I smirked.
He didn't find my answer
humorous.
"Midnight," I gave in. "Trust
me, OK?"
"Sometimes that's so hard to
do, Taylor," he reached out and squeezed my neck. "But you're growing up
and your mom and I have to consider your freedom eventually."
"Don't worry, Dad. I'm not
stupid," I said. "Love you," I added, turning and walking down the busy sidewalk
of Piccadilly Circus.
I couldn't believe everything
I saw as I walked that first block. The lights were so amazing! It was like
the entire world was one giant set of blinking, flickering, bright neon lights.
I had to have looked like a dumb-founded tourist, with my head in
the air and my mouth gaping in amazement as I turned around and around, looking
up, down, and sideways at all the busy things that were happening around
me. Everything, until …
"Ooomph!" I bumped into
someone, my head still twirling and gawking at the sights.
"Shit, dude!" a voice said.
"Got your nose in the air and your bloody thoughts lost?"
"Sorry," I said, looking
at a boy about my age standing directly in front of me. "I'm sorry. I was
just looking around and not paying attention."
"That'd be obvious, kid,"
he took off his cap and shook back his long brown hair. Then he looked me
up and down, studying almost every inch of me. "You new around here?"
"Visiting," I gulped.
"Bloody tourist if you ask me,"
he eyed me. "Might not be the right part of the block to be wanderin' down,
kid. 'Less you knew what you were lookin' for."
"I'm really sorry," I said,
turning. "I'm just getting to know the place around here. I'm staying for
a week."
The boy took a step toward me
as I started to walk away. When I stopped, he stopped.
"So, you'll be here around Piccadilly a week? Alone?"
the boy asked.
"Kind of. Yeah," I turned
to face him. "I'm with my Dad, but he's here on business. So I'm pretty much
alone while he's in meetings and stuff all day."
"Interesting," the boy grinned
as I suddenly felt jealous that he had the David Gallagher dimples I'd
love to have. "My name's Wesley. Friends calls me Wes for short,"
he said, holding out his hand.
"Taylor," I extended my
hand into his. "I don't have a 'for short' name."
"Taylor!" he beamed, shaking
my hand longer than I expected. "Good ole' English name, it is! Right nice
to meet you, Taylor. Where you be stayin'?"
"Gillison Hotel," I said,
nodding back over my shoulder, grinning that this boy seemed almost like
an Artful Dodger, except his hat wasn't a top hat. "Up there a few blocks
and across from a big park."
"Hyde Park, that would be," Wesley
hummed with another broad, dimpled smile. "Cool! Your old man's on some
big business to afford that place."
"It's all right," I shrugged,
not really knowing why he thought it was an expensive place.
"Can't figure out if you're
bein' green on me or if you really are green, Taylor," Wesley
took off his cap again, shaking his long brown hair as I studied him
quickly.
He looked younger than me for some reason, but I
wasn't sure, since he never told me how old he was. His brown hair hung down
to just above his collar, kind of the same length as mine. He had bright,
wide brown eyes that almost seemed to twinkle in the neon lights flashing
brightly around us. Unlike me, but kind of like David Gallagher and the Artful
Dodger combined, he had a dusting of faded freckles across his cute, pug-like
nose. His smile was wonderful, dimples and all, with his straight white teeth
gleaming all colors in the neon. His lips were thick and pink and wet, and,
yes, kissable! He had a firm-set jaw and high cheek bones that tapered to
a pixy chin, smooth as any pixy or boy's bottom that I've seen in photos
in a few magazines I have back home. His build was firm and stocky, almost
muscular, but it was hard to tell under his over-sized, smudged T-shirt and
baggy, loose-fitting jeans. He wore tennis shoes that looked pretty new,
but he wasn't wearing socks. He drew my attention back as he dug his hands
into the big pockets of his baggy jeans and pulled at his crotch as he humped
his hips slowly forward and back, smirking.
"So, you got some free time
on your hands, 'eh?" he smirked, digging obviously at his crotch as he continued
to sway forward and back. It almost looked like he was playing a bit of pocket
pool to draw my attention to the front of his baggy jeans.
"Yeah, I guess," I shrugged,
ungluing my eyes from his crotch and jerking them back up to his twinkling
eyes. "A whole week here."
"Aw right!" he hummed. "Got
some time tonight, maybe?"
I shook my head. "Not really.
Just got here today. I'm kind of just looking around to get familiar, you
know? I'm trying to get off America time and into England time."
"Got any pounds on
you?"
"Huh?" I looked at him, wondering
if he thought I was fat or skinny.
"Pounds, Taylor!" he sniggered.
"Money! You know? Cash!"
Feeling foolish, knowing
I read about pounds and sixpence and stuff on the plane over here, and Dad
giving me a full-blown explanation of the currency. "Oh … no," I said.
"Not yet. I'm sure my Dad and me will go get some money changed over tomorrow
morning." But then I started wondering if this kid was thinking of robbing
me! "Why?" I asked.
He smirked with his cute
dimples again. "I ain't thinkin' of robbin' a cute lad like you!"
he laughed. "Just thinkin' about … maybe we could go to the cinema together
or somethin'."
"Oh," I sighed with relief.
"Yeah, cool! That'd be real cool, Wesley."
"Wes, remember?" he crinkled
his pixy nose. "Wes."
"Yeah, Wes. Sorry. That
would be cool! Are there some nice cinemas around here? I mean, like what's
playing and stuff? I could get into a cool movie."
The boy's grin grew again
as he flashed his dimples. "Hey, Taylor? I'd be sayin' there's a few little
cinemas around and about here that'll be cool for you and me to visit …
maybe. I'd be obliged to show you."
"That would be great, Wes!"
I said.
"Well, since you're probably
still on America time, how about I meet you around here tomorrow about, um,
a bit before lunch time, 'ey? I might have myself a busy night tonight with
my pals, and I like to sleep in a bit."
"That'd be cool with me!"
I grinned, reaching out my hand. "Eleven in the morning?"
He reached for my hand and
took it firmly. Then he leaned a bit closer. "Eleven-thirty is better,
Taylor. Now make sure you bring some money to pay your way, all right?"
"Yeah," I said, not wanting
to let go of his grip right away. "My Dad will give me money tomorrow. Should
we meet right here?"
Wes winked one of his big brown
eyes at me as he grinned and turned me around in the opposite direction I
came from and held his hand on my shoulder. "Down around that corner there,
halfway down the block?" he pointed. "There's an arcade, ya know? Vids and
games and sorts."
"Yeah? Cool! I like video
games!" I looked down the darker block.
"The place is called BLOKEY'S.
It's a place with lots of boys … and some men lookin' around, ya know?
Lookin' for stuff …"
I looked at him, wondering
what he meant. "Yeah?" I questioned.
"No worry," he winked at me again,
squeezing my shoulder. "Wes'll be there with you and keep the riff-raff away.
You can meet me there around eleven-thirty."
"Cool. OK."
"If I'm not quite there
then, you should look around for Dicken. He'll hold onto you until I get
there," Wes nudged my hip with his and winked.
"OK, Wes. See Dicken if
you're not there right away."
"Right-o, chap!" he patted my
belly just barely above my crotch and I was thankful I didn't have a boner,
or he would have definitely felt it! "See ya then, Taylor!" he winked.
"Oh, and don't let Dicken try to talk you into nothin' kinky before I get
there, OK?"
"Wes?"
He looked at me with
question.
"Um. If I get there before you
do, how will I know Dicken?"
Wes smirked and dug his
hands back into his seemingly endless pockets and began rocking back and
forth while his hidden hands began to probe and move around in his crotch.
"Dicken will be wearin' a bright red stockin' cap. Cute bugger with bright
blond hair longer than yours. Down past his shoulders it'd be. I imagine
he'd be wearin' a white T-shirt, way bigger than him, with a big black arrow
in front pointin' down … down to his private parts in front. His way
of advertisin' to his mates, you know. I'll mention you might be seein' him
before I get there. Cheerio, mate!"
I nodded with some confusion
as I watched him walk away down the darker end of the block and disappear
into the crowd of slow, mingling people, mostly boys and a few men, that
I felt was strange for nearly midnight England time, which was nearly five
in the afternoon, America time …
As hard as I tried to get to
sleep that night, it was difficult. My time-table was all screwed up, having
to go to bed at six in the evening, American time. But I reasoned that it
was past one in the morning England time, and if I was going to be here for
a week, I had better get adjusted quick. I thought about jacking off. That
usually helps me go to sleep pretty quick afterwards, but with Dad just in
the next room, I felt uncomfortable for some reason. Not that I didn't do
it back home with him in the next room, but I had a hard-on to beat all hard-ons!
The kind that won't go down and is painfully killing you because
it's so hard and throbbing? So I ended up just palming myself to about six
or seven great tingles, without cumming, as I thought about Wes and some
of the strange and exciting things he said. I was really looking
forward to tomorrow - which would be here, England time, in a few more hours!
But then on the third try to keep the tingles in my cock from exploding,
I gave up and creamed on my belly, rubbing it in after as I figured I would
be taking a shower in a few hours anyway.
And the morning came way too
soon! Dad woke me up at seven, which was actually midnight, American time!
So it took me a little longer to shower and get ready for the day, since
I was basically still asleep!
We had breakfast, if you
can call it that, in the restaurant downstairs. It was some weird, soggy
eggs and a fluffy roll that looked like a crescent moon! Not to mention the
warm orange juice being too watered down! But after I ate that slop,
I started to feel a little better, waking up a little more.
"I sure hope it's not going to
take me all week to get used to this weird time over here, Dad," I mumbled,
cringing as I downed the rest of my warm orange juice. "By the time I get
used to it, we'll be heading home."
"Block the time difference out
in your mind, Taylor," Dad said. "I've traveled enough overseas where it
doesn't even bother me anymore. If you stop thinking about America
time all the time, you'll adapt much quicker."
"So don't think that it's
half-past midnight America time right now?"
"It's seven-thirty in the
morning. Period, the end."
"OK," I closed my eyes tight
and tried as hard as I could to zoom myself into the future by seven hours.
I couldn't tell if it worked or not, but at least I tried! I may have caught
up a few hours in that process.
"Come on," Dad said, finishing
his thick coffee, cringing like I did with my orange juice. "We have to get
some money changed over."
I was getting closer to
the time at hand, now eight-thirty, England time, after Dad gave me some
English currency and explaining what was what and what it was worth in basic
American dollars.
"What are you planning on doing
today, Taylor?" he said, grabbing his brief case.
I shrugged, not really telling
him that I met this cute street urchin last night and was planning on meeting
him again for who knows what. "I don't know. Maybe do more looking around,
you know? Hit some shops and buy some souvenirs. Walk around a bit, and maybe
feed some pigeons in that Trafalgar Square place."
"I won't be able to meet
you for lunch our first day," he almost seemed to apologize.
"The first day of meetings is always long with very few breaks."
"That's OK, Dad," I said, glad
that I didn't have to break away from my time with Wesley to meet him for
some boring, fast lunch of probably more greasy fish and chips. "I'll grab
a bite somewhere in my walking around."
"And don't
…"
"I know, Dad!" I rolled my eyes.
"You give me this speech all the time. I won't talk to strangers,
and I won't get into a predicament I can't get out of. Besides,
if I do? I'll call Scotland Yard, even though we're in England," I
smirked.
"That's my boy!" he kissed
me on the forehead before walking to the door. "If you visit Trafalgar Square
and feed the pigeons? Be careful of the poop!"
"I'll put that on my list,"
I smiled.
"I should be back by seven
tonight," he said, opening the door. "I'll take you to a nice restaurant
south of here."
"Cool," I said. "Have a good
day, Dad."
"I will," he walked into
the hall, turning back. "And, Taylor …"
"Dad! I'll be fine!"
I rolled my eyes. "Between staying with mom and you, I've been alone a
lot before. I'll be OK. Just …"
"I know. Trust you," he smiled.
"I do, Taylor. I really do, son. Have a good day."
"You too. See you at seven,"
I said, watching him walk down the hall and disappear into the elevator.
"Phew …" I sighed, closing
the door and leaning against it. I looked at my watch. It was nine in the
morning, England time. I grinned, suddenly not caring anymore what it was
America time!
By ten thirty, and with a smear
of pigeon poop on my new T-shirt, I walked out of Trafalgar Square, leaving
the million fluttering pigeons to someone else, and headed back up and across
the busy street to the now, not-so-bright- neon lights of Piccadilly
Circus.
Looking further down the
block I met Wesley at just last night, I again saw a lot of mingling boys
and a few men. I knew it was earlier than the time Wesley and I agreed, but
I was starting to get anxious to do a bit more exploring before I met the
boy. I was also curious to see these boys up closer, and maybe try to figure
out what they might be up to.
So I headed down the block
toward the mixed crowd…
© Copyright Kurt Kendall, 2001