You Must No Longer Lie Alone

By Witte Piet

The book chronicles the adventures of two gay couples, David and Jon and Tom and Luke from the earlier books in the series, and introduces a new character, Luke's Italian brother Sandro Mascagnoli. Sandro comes up to St Boniface's College, Camford to study engineering. After an unhappy gay relationship with Jack Meredith, a research student, he meets Dominic Ovenden, a computer science student, with whom he rapidly falls in love. Tom and Luke's activities in Trabizona, Italy also figure in the story, with episodes involving Tom's gay boss, Professor Sescantanto, and Luke's struggles in his job as assistant opera house manager. The noble family background of Dominic, thought by the boys to be an inseparable barrier to him forming a permanent partnership with Sandro, turns out unexpectedly favourably when Dom's grandfather, head of the family, admits to being a closet gay. Sex with Dom proves to be good for Sandro's academic performance. He gets a first and a prestigious research studentship to study for a PhD.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Witte Piet
• Release date: Mar 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781627768825

Witte Piet

The author started writing gay romances after he had retired from a long career as an academic scientist. It is a widespread illusion that authors of erotica are practised experts in the art of venery. In fact, this is in most cases quite untrue, they are more generally working out their erotic fantasies in fiction, as is the case with Witte Piet. The author's aim is to write pleasant and enjoyable stories about love between men, not leaving the sex behind at the bedroom door, but entering into plenty of explicit detail, with some crude language. One of the author's mottoes is a quotation from Jane Austen's Mansfield Park, "Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery,” so there is for example no poverty among the lead characters. The fields are all "highbrow", involving student life in one of England's ancient universities, and areas of science, religion, music, literature (especially seventeenth-century poetry) and life in the English countryside and in Italy.

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Chapter Two: Problem at the opera house

David Singleton-Scarborough breathed a sigh of relief as the last pupil of the day left his house. The boy had been rather a pain. He persistently failed to get the tempo of the aria he was singing right to David’s satisfaction. Sometimes David wondered whether starting teaching was the right thing for him to have done. One of his reasons for doing so was so that he could spend more time with his partner Jon. However, things had not turned out that way. When his sister Dorothea, known by her husband as Dorotea, asked if he could keep an eye on her son Alessandro while he was polishing up his English prior to entering Camford University, David had said that he himself couldn’t do it, but that he would ask his partner Jon. So Jon agreed to spend an extra couple of months in the apartment in Fountain Street, Camford instead of sleeping every night in Heemstede with his lover.

David liked living in the Netherlands. Although he missed the academic hothouse atmosphere of Camford, the relaxed atmosphere of the Low Countries suited him. He was after all, half Dutch by birth. But at the same time, he also missed Jon. In Heemstede, he had more time to think of his partner than during his recital tours and opera engagements.

David got up and went into his office, where his PA, Loesje was checking his diary for the following week. Net zodra je klaar bent, Loesje, ga maar een beetje vervroegd naar huis. (As soon as you’re done, Loesje, you can go home a bit early) he said.  When she had gone, fancying a bit of phone sex, even though it was only 4-30 pm in England, he reached for the telephone to ring Jon. However, at that moment there was a ringing sound from his laptop. It was Luke, calling from Italy via Skype. David looked at the handsome image of his twenty-three-year-old son. He radiated contentment. ‘Married’ life with his partner Tom obviously suited Luke. Hi, Dad, after six months, I’m finally doing something interesting, and I need to ask you something. Our head répétiteur is leaving shortly, and my boss is looking for someone to replace him, and being very international in outlook (otherwise he wouldn’t have hired me!) he is thinking about someone from Northern Europe rather than another Italian. Do you know of any good répétiteurs who might want to gain experience in Italy?

David thought for a moment. There are very good ones in Copenhagen, Mannheim, Antwerp and Lyon, he said, but whether any of them might want to go to Trabizona, I don’t know. I’ll send you their names by E-mail, and their E-mail addresses if I can find them, which I doubt. How are you, and how’s Tom?

I’m fine. As for Tom, his Italian has now taken off! For months he’s been trying to talk Italian to me in bed. All the dirty words I learnt from the students in Bologna, I’ve taught to him, but a month ago I forbade him from speaking English to me, not just in bed, but all the time! That made it hard work for him, but now he’s starting to think in Italian, and we never use English in the house! He says it has made things so much easier in the lab, being able to talk to technicians, students and clerical staff, instead of just scientists. Do you know what he said to me in bed the other day? ‘Mi piace tuo cazzo bello’! (I love your beautiful cock).

It sounds to me as though he has finally succumbed to the charms of Italy! David replied. "Italy has attracted Englishmen since the days of the Anglo-Saxons. No less than three Anglo-Saxon kings went on pilgrimage to Rome and died there.

Anyway, I’m very glad that Tom has broken through the barrier. It is very hard, however much of a foreign language you can understand and read, to actually go out and speak to people. Now that Tom has gained his confidence in communicating, his vocabulary will increase like a bomb. But keep up the daily flash-card exercises. That is the best way to expand his vocabulary easily. The dirty words will help. There is nothing more limiting than not being able to curse in a foreign tongue! Sometimes when you say or do something, Luke, that I like or approve of, I regret that I’m not your biological father. I can’t even claim credit for your big dick! But I’m glad that Tom appreciates it!

It seems strange, replied Luke that Tom is such a big lad, and yet only has an average-size dick. But it’s good enough for me. I wouldn’t wish him any different. He’s my big boy from the North! He wouldn’t half be embarrassed if he could hear what we’re talking about!

Yes, you have certainly inherited my crude way of talking. That’s a dubious advantage of being brought up by two men, without a mother. For instance, I can’t imagine many fathers ever discussing the size of their sons’ cocks with them! But that comes from swimming naked in our indoor pool. It would have been a lot more difficult for us if you had been straight. You would have cringed, as Cathy often used to, especially when your Pop and I used to talk about women. I just hope that Jon and I are not going to have that sort of problem with Sandro. He’s a sweet boy, and I hope that he rapidly gets his uncertainty about his sexuality cleared up. I would hate your mother to accuse Jon and me of tipping him over the fence into gayness. Still, we shall know within the next year or so! Luke, are you busy this weekend? (It was Friday afternoon).

Not really, replied Luke. I’m working tomorrow night, but only from five till about eleven. I’m free all day Sunday, though we’re going to my mother’s for lunch and dinner. Why?"

I’m missing Jon, and I’ve no lessons this weekend, because a lot people are on holiday. If I can get a plane tonight, I’m minded to come and see you both.

What a brilliant idea! I’ll make up a bed for you and Tom will come to Valerio-Catullo to meet you, because I’m working tonight.

Right! I’ll ring you from Schiphol to confirm that I’ve got a seat on the plane. The flight’s at 7-30, so I should arrive about 9-30 pm.

All went according to plan. As David emerged from the arrivals gate at Valerio-Catullo, Tom rushed up to greet him. David embraced him and gave him a quick kiss. They both noticed on each other the fragrance of Storing pour Homme, the gay perfume that they both used. Tom led him to the car park and unlocked a small white three-door Fiat. Non parlamo Inglese! he said, solo Italiano. They put David’s bag on the back seat and climbed in. Tom continued in Italian, "I’ve just bought this car from Massimo. He got it for Sandro to learn to drive in, as it’s small and easily manoeuvrable. But Sandro has now passed the driving test and in any case is in Camford, where cars are a liability. So Massimo offered it to me at a bargain price. Because I had only had a license for a few months when we got here, I had no problems in adapting to driving on the right. It’s much easier for me to get to the lab by car than to use the bus, whereas Luca can easily go on the tram to the Teatro Musicale. We’re lucky enough to have off-street parking at our apartment.

There’s a restaurant next door to the opera house that specializes in after-show suppers, so we’re taking you there to eat. We’ve booked a table for 11 pm, which is a bit late to eat, but I guess that you need some food! They drove into Trabizona and Tom parked the car. At that time of night it was no problem.

They got into the restaurant and sat at the bar, awaiting Luke’s arrival. Tom’s cellphone rang. It was Luke, speaking in English. They had a major problem at the opera house. As he was leaving the building after that evening’s performance of Rigoletto, the tenor had slipped on the stairs and broken his ankle. The hospital said that he must not walk on it for 48 hours. There was no understudy, and no-one in cast or chorus could sing the role tomorrow night with less than 22 hours notice, so Luke wondered if his father could step in. Otherwise they would have to cancel the performance and give the audience their ticket money back. He knew that David had sung the role of Il Duca di Mantova in Antwerp the previous year. David sighed. I can’t get away from my job, can I? he said. Not even for a weekend with my family! Tell Luke that I’ll do it on condition that they assemble the cast principals and the répétiteur tomorrow afternoon to rehearse with me, and get me a vocal score, and that they have someone on hand to make sure that the costumes fit me! It’s too short notice to be able to get the orchestra in. Oh, and ask them to provide a free seat for Tom! Luke was delighted and said he would ring back in ten minutes with his boss’s decision, and that he would be along to join us in half an hour.

Needless to say, they accepted David’s offer, and Luke joined David and Tom for a very late supper. He said that he had E-mailed his mother to warn her that her brother would be joining them on Sunday. Tom was delighted to get a chance to hear David sing again. David was secretly pleased that after twenty years as an international artist, he had finally got the chance of singing in an Italian opera house, and delighted that it was his son who had got him the chance. The three of them consumed only a single bottle of wine with their meal, and at David’s insistence, they were in bed by 1-30 am.

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Chapter Three: David gives a ducal performance

The three men had breakfast at 9 am the next morning. David had brought his laptop and from it extracted the names of répétiteurs that Luke had asked for. Luke went off to the opera house to find out who was going to contact the other cast members, who would not be best pleased at having to give up their Saturday afternoon for an extra rehearsal.

Tom showed David their apartment. It was on the first floor and was reached by a flight of outside stairs from a courtyard reached by an archway off the street.  It was spacious yet cosy inside. There were two bedrooms, a good-sized bathroom with washbasin, shower, toilet and bidet, a large sitting room with dining space at one end, a reasonable-sized kitchen, and small poky room that the boys used as a study. They paid a nice middle-aged lady who lived nearby to come in three days per week to do the cleaning, and she would on prior notice cook for them in the evening, if asked. They did their own laundry and much of their own shopping, and Tom cooked for them at the weekend if they were at home. We’re very lucky to have some money of our own, said Tom. We could never have afforded the rent for this apartment on my Leonardo grant and Luke’s meagre earnings at the Teatro Musicale! It was clear to David that they were a very happy couple. Luke reappeared in time for lunch, which they ate in a trattoria near the apartment.

The rehearsal was timed for 4 pm. Luke escorted his father to the theatre, where most of the cast were gathered with the répétiteur. David was introduced by Luke’s boss, Cornelio Sirigante. David apologized for breaking up their Saturday afternoon, but said that he could not appear without having sung at least the major numbers of the recitatives and ensembles with the rest of the cast. They began with the archetypal quartet Bella figlia del’ amore, which went very well. They then ran through as many ensembles and exchanges of recitative as they could, and finished with just enough time to dress and make up for the performance at 7-30. Fortunately, David was of a similar height and build to the injured tenor, and only the trouser waist needed to be taken in a little. There was a spare box, so Tom was able to watch the performance from a box. The audience received with their programmes a duplicated slip informing them that the role of Il Duca was to be sung at short notice by Davide Singleton-Scarborough, a name that most Italians would find unpronounceable!

The performance was a great success. Tom led the applause from his box and the audience was obviously delighted. They knew international quality when they heard it. Luke’s boss was profuse in his thanks to David and asked if he would consider a season in Trabizona in two years time. David immediately agreed, saying that his agent would be in touch to negotiate a fee, as well as to collect payment for that evening’s one-off performance. That night their post-performance supper was a much more boozy affair!

Next day the three of them were up early and Tom drove them to Bologna for the service at the English church, at which the two boys had become regular worshippers, and which, apart from conversations while jogging with an American colleague from the lab, was the only time that Tom spoke English! From Bologna they went on to Sandro’s home-town to join Luke’s mother, Massimo and Bianca for lunch. David gave his niece a big kiss. She was now about fourteen. I ought to come and see you more regularly, he said to Dorothea and Massimo, I hope the boys are not coming here too often. If you don’t watch out, they’ll start bringing their washing for you to do! If they’re too lazy to do it themselves, they should be paying someone to do it for them!

After not seeing my eldest son for nineteen years, I’m quite happy to see him as often as he cares to come, and Tom is sweet, he’s never any trouble! Bianca seems to have taken a fancy to him. The boys NEVER bring me washing! And now that my darling Sandro is in Camford, it’s even nicer to have one of my boys in the house.

But how does Massimo feel about it? Wouldn’t he prefer to have a weekend with just the three of you?

But he does. The boys don’t come every weekend, only every other weekend. And in any case, during the opera season, they only come on Sunday, when Massimo is always glad to see them, and they don’t stay overnight. Family is family, and it takes first place with Italians. Don’t forget that you were the one who could play with Luca when he was a toddler, took him for walks, got him into Winton College School, even tried to teach him to swim! I never knew him when he was a sweet little boy, so I’m just so glad that I can enjoy his company now that he’s a man.

Actually, much of that credit goes not to me but to Jon. He’s the one who got stuck at home with two kids, while I was gadding off round the world singing in opera houses. Sometimes I think that Jon is the kids’ real father, and I am just a visitor in my own home. But that is the way that Jon wanted it. He gave up a research career to promote my singing career, because he promised our Dad that he would give me maximum opportunity to use my inborn talent for singing, and we were not prepared to pay someone to bring up our children for us. And we both owe a lot to you for giving us the chance of being Luke’s parents!

I’m just as grateful to you, because by adopting Luke, you gave me the chance to do a Ph.D. With these mutual compliments, the conversation ended and they all went out to a trattoria for a family lunch.

Next morning, David left early on a train to Valerio-Catullo airport for the return flight to Schiphol, and by 2 pm was listening to one of his pupils singing scales. He was rather pleased that he had finally broken into the Italian opera scene, which not even Marcello Fabioni had managed to achieve for him. (Marcello had been David’s singing teacher, had started off David’s professional singing career, and had got Luke his present job as assistant to Cornelio Sirigante).

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Chapter Four: Sandro explores Camford

Teaching at Sandro’s language school took only three days per week. On the fourth day, excursions were organized to interesting places in and near Camford. The fifth day of the week was supposed to be used for private study, but few of the students did much of that. The course lasted six weeks, at the end of which the students took the TOEFL test, although they were encouraged to try the internet-based test at an earlier stage in the course. A few of the students at the school were hoping to start at once on a British University course, like Sandro, but most were using it as basis of preparation for more advanced exams, either in Camford or back in their homeland. In Sandro’s case, he had had a telephone/video conference interview, which had more or less satisfied the college admissions tutor, but to be absolutely certain, the offer had been conditional on Sandro getting the highest possible grade in the TOEFL test.

Sandro found that his uncle’s low opinion of of language school students had been right. The other students at the school were either obsessively shy, because they lacked the confidence to talk, or perfectly competent English speakers, who just wanted to have a few week’s enjoyment away from their parents.  Most of the young people on the programme were from rich parents, who just wanted their children out of the way for a few weeks. After three weeks, Sandro took the test and passed as expected, at the highest grade. His result was sent directly to the college by the test agency, and at the end of August, his place at Boni’s, as Saint Boniface’s was known, was assured. His uncle agreed that there was little point in him staying on the course. He said that he would take Sandro to various interesting places in and around Camford, and of course his daily test regime at home would continue. Sandro’s pronunciation was steadily improving, and it was clear that he would have no problems with lectures or tutorials.

Jon also took advantage of his position as honorary fellow of Boni’s to show Sandro the college, including the staircase whose refurbishment he had paid for, and many other parts of the college that were not open to undergraduates. He then took Sandro out on a punt through the winding waterways that add an almost Venetian air of romance to the city of Camford. When they got outside the area of the colleges, he showed his nephew how to propel a punt. It is not difficult, but is harder than it looks. The essential point of technique is to keep the pole firmly pushed up against the side of the boat, to push hard on it and to lift it clear of the water between strokes. Sandro watched carefully, and in half an hour was propelling the boat as if he had been doing it for years.

They had also, rather to Sandro’s embarrassment, had a few personal discussions. Jon told Sandro that he had joined a family of very pious men, but that he would not be expected to go to church with Jon or the family unless he wanted to. He could go on his own to the local Roman Catholic church, or stay at home and do whatever he liked. There would be no religious pressure. Sandro admitted that although he had been an altar-boy when younger, he now went to church very rarely. Jon also said, and this was perhaps less embarrassing to Sandro, that although he and David were gay, there would be no influence on Sandro, and in any case, once Sandro was living in college, he could do whatever he liked, but warned him that he should always take prophylactic precautions. (The words he used to discuss that topic were not so polysyllabic, and indeed were Italian.) Sandro blushed, but admitted that he had come with the necessary equipment in his luggage. Maybe he was shy, but he was not naïve!

Jon also told Sandro that he had bought him a year’s membership of the Camford Men’s Fitness Centre. I had better go with you the first time, he said. You need to know how the changing rooms work. So one afternoon in August, the two of them entered the Fitness Centre. The building work on the extensions was nearly complete, and it was hoped that the new facilities would be available within a few months. Jon explained to Sandro that the swimming-pool changing facilities were a duplex, which shared a central locker room. One side of the duplex was for modest men, with closed cubicles and individual showers, and the other side for men who did not care who saw them naked, with communal changing and shower facilities without screens or partitions. Jon said that quite a lot of gay men used the facilities, and that Sandro should be aware that he might be propositioned, not in the changing room itself, where such approaches were heavily frowned on, but elsewhere on the premises such as the bar. He urged Sandro not to avoid the place, because unpleasantness was practically unheard of, but just to be aware that he might be approached. Sandro loved the facilities. The pool, the showers and the bar all seemed wonderful to him, and he decided to become a regular visitor, particularly during the summer when there were no undergraduates around.

Jon encouraged Sandro to go out on his own. He made sure that the boy had enough money to buy himself a meal in a pub or restaurant. They had already been several times together to the Venezia, Camford’s only good Italian restaurant, and Sandro knew that he could talk to the waiters and waitresses in his own language. Jon took Sandro to one or two concerts, but such events were not numerous in Camford in August and September.

One of Sandro’s favourite walks was to go with his uncle along the Camwell towpath to a pub called the Carp at Stubbington. Sometimes Sandro would go there on his own and drink a beer and eat a jacket potato or a pork pie or a Scotch egg, all new and unfamiliar items of diet. Jon’s slight pressure on the boy to persevere with English cask beer had been successful, and Sandro now after a month enjoyed bitter, mild and pale ales, and the bitterness which had initially deterred him he soon came to realize was what gave beer its essential thirst-quenching qualities.

One day at the Carp, he met a couple of girls as he sat in the garden eating his lunch. They were quite attractive, and he eyed them up appreciatively. The girls noticed his glances, and one of them came over and asked him if he would like to join them. He did so, and asked them if they would like a further drink. They said yes, and a few minutes later, he emerged from the pub carrying the drinks on a tray. In contrast to Tom’s struggles, in a month Sandro had adjusted to speaking and thinking in English, and the half-hour pre-bedtime conversations in Italian with Jon had now ceased by mutual agreement.

The girls were not English: one was oriental, the other from the Czech Republic. A few minutes conversation revealed that they were on an English language course prior to beginning their University studies in the Martinmas term. Sandro enquired which colleges they were going to. The oriental girl, who was from Thailand, said that she was going to Boni’s to read law, the Czech girl was going to Shrewsbury College to read agricultural science. In the course of conversation it became clear to all three of them that they could all speak English pretty well.

Sandro asked them how they had got to the Carp and they said on the bus. He asked them if they would like to walk back with him along the towpath to the centre of the city. They agreed, so when they had all finished their drinks they drifted slowly back in the direction of Camford. It was about 4 pm when they got back and Sandro asked them if they would like afternoon tea. They agreed and entered a teashop. He ordered tea and cakes for three. In the course of conversation, it emerged that the next day was the girls’ free day from the language school. As they did not yet have university E-mail addresses, they exchanged mobile phone numbers and arranged to meet the next day to explore Camford.

It was a warm summer day, and they met at about 10 am. Sandro suggested that they hired a punt before lunch and the big invasion of tourists that rather spoilt the city in the summer. They did so, and Sandro took them through the winding waterways and along the river Camwell until they reached a riverside pub, where they stopped briefly to purchase a few bottles and sandwiches before