Little Boy Homo Come Blow Your Horn (no illustrations)

Excerpt

There were two young men, sitting smoking beneath a sun umbrella, who had been coming to the resort for years. Both in their late twenties, they had been friends for longer than either of them cared to remember. Their bronzed, athletic bodies, sat straight backed and cross-legged, like sentinals on guard. Which was what they were in a way. Every year they usually spent three months on the beaches of Cannes, and there was little that happened there that they didn’t know about.

“Do you see what I see?” the blond young man, whose name was Marius Waring, asked.

His friend, Morgan Vance, shaded his eyes. “Yes I do see,” he answered thoughtfully. “Father and son? Sugar daddy and boy? Friends?”

“Certainly not friends,” Marius continued. “Look at the way the man is listening to what the boy is saying. Mere friends are never that attentive.”

They both laughed, lazily, but their eyes remained watchful, waiting for the objects of their interest to reappear from inside a changing chalet into which they had disappeared.

When they did Marius Waring gave a low whistle, and the two friends looked at each other, eyebrows raised.