THE COMMUNITY (Part 4 of The Fulfilment Diaries)

 

THE COMMUNITY

(Part 4 of The Fulfilment Diaries)

Adventures

Fiction by Doug in London

 

It was almost ten years since Richard had won his massive lottery win, and the community he’d created had settled into a blissful life, with each resident enjoying their disability in their own particular way. In the centre of all their activities was Mike, permanently trapped in his iron lung. In 2021, he celebrated his first five years of permanent immobility and had reached his goal of forgetting that he ever had a life outside of his steel prison.  His friends at the lodge marvelled at his complete determination to remain in the lung for the rest of his life, and they had all come to love him. He, of course, loved the long slow kisses the others gave him – and lay in a state of constant arousal waiting for the next hand to push through one of his portholes and tweak his nipples or wank his cock.

They had suggested that they find a long cable enabling them to push his iron lung down the pathway to the spa, but he’d refused. It was part of his self-determined destiny, he said, to remain in the one small room and view the world through his mirror. During his first few years he had learned to reverse read completely fluently, and as the others had obeyed his insistence that they never put anything printed in front of his nose, he knew that he’d lost the ability to read in the conventional way. Of course, when they set the television up for him to watch, he watched it via his mirror, so everything he saw was reversed.

Richard sat with Mike one evening. “I’ve been looking at our financial situation,” said Richard, “and we have a very healthy bank balance. In fact, it’s almost embarrassing how our wealth has grown.”

“That’s good to know,” said Mike, “as I’m very aware that I didn’t bring much with me when I came, and obviously I’ll never bring any income to the community. I’m totally dependent on the generosity of my good friends.”

“But that’s just as it should be,” replied Richard. “I set this place up so that any rich men joining us would pay into our general funds, enabling those who had little or no money to become residents.”

“I guess Stefan and Johan must have been very wealthy when they arrived,” said Mike.

“They certainly were,” said Richard, “but they were so grateful to get their amputations that they happily paid all their wealth to the community, which of course paid for the spa. Not only that, but the investment of much of my original lottery winnings, continues to pay dividends into the funds, far greater than our day-to-day costs.”

“It’s brilliant, isn’t it?” said Mike.

“Yes, and that brings me to the reason I’ve come to talk this evening.”

“Go on,” said Mike.

“I’m going to suggest that everyone starts to spend some of the money, mainly by travelling. I’m sure most of them would love to show off their disabilities and will enjoy the challenges created by their cripple choices.”

“That’s good,” said Mike.

“Yes,” said Richard, “but here’s the thing. How will you feel trapped here permanently when the others start travelling the world. Will you feel jealous? Will it undermine your determination to stay in your lung?”

“No, of course not,” said Mike. “I knew from the very first day, that I’d never leave the lung; I was very clear that my destiny was to live in this machine and never leave it. The last man to live in it was in here for forty years. I hope very much that I’ll be here for sixty at least. This is me; this is who I am, and I’ll remain here for my whole life – which of course you knew, didn’t you?”  

“Yes, I did, and I knew what you would say. I just wanted reassurance that you’d be OK when our friends start travelling.”

“Has anyone started to make plans?” asked Mike.

“Actually, it’s Valentine and me,” said Richard. “Val loves his one-legged life, and is dying to spend some time in New York; and I’m keen to see Chicago; so we’re planning a big trip to the States.”

By chance, at that moment, Valentine came crutching past. After four years on crutches he had become very efficient, and crutched with an elegantly smooth gait.

“Val,” called Richard, “I’ve just been telling Mike about going to New York and Chicago.”

“I’m impatient to go,” said Valentine. He turned to Mike. “I hope we’ll have some great tales to tell you when we get back.”

Back in 2014, when he’d first started the planning for Fulfilment Lodge, Richard had imagined that the residents would be able to take care of all the day to day running of the big house. He had underestimated very badly the challenge of such a big property and with so many residents, and over time the problems of cleaning, the backlog of washing, and the mountain of ironing had all become a burden. Richard had to admit that he’d failed to realise that changing the sheets on a bed took a wheelchair user far longer than an able-bodied person, and that some of the residents would be unable to play any part in the running of the Lodge.

He and Valentine decided that they need to recruit a couple of domestic staff, hopefully gay boys who would understand the needs of gay men of all ages and disabilities, and who could keep the place on an even keel. They advertised in Poole and Bournemouth and interviewed several young men. At last, they’d found what they wanted: a pair of young Poole boys who were twins, and at age 25 and fit, strong and healthy, ideal for the work.

At first they’d not told the new boys that the men they would be working for were all voluntarily disabled, but it wasn’t long before they’d had to bring the two in their confidence. The young twins were called Mark and Matthew, and were identical, except they both had extensive tattoos and piercings, and as they’d deliberately not had matching tattoos it was easy to tell them apart: Mark had a beautiful large butterfly on his neck under his chin, and Matthew had tribal designs on his hands.

At their interview, they’d asked if their tattoos and piercings would be an issue at the Lodge, and if Richard and Valentine would mind that they intended to continue until they were fully covered. Richard had grinned: although he had no tattoos himself, he admired them in other men and reassured Mark and Matthew that he would encourage them to continue to get more ink.

Mark and Matthew had become friends with all the residents, as well as stabilising the chores of washing and cleaning, and Richard was confident that they would make sure the place ran smoothly whilst they went on holiday. Both young men had driving licences and were able to help with driving the minibus when needed.

A month later, and Richard and Valentine departed for their trans-Atlantic adventure. They had sent a suitcase ahead, as they realised in their crippled states, neither of them could cope with a big bag. They’d even sent another bag to their Chicago hotel. The taxi to Wareham Station, and the train to Waterloo was the easiest part of the journey. They took another taxi to Heathrow, and arrived with lots of time for check-in.

Security at the airport was the first real hurdle. Valentine went ahead and crutched towards the security machine. “Sorry sir, we’ll have to put your crutches through the x-ray machine,” said the guard.

“OK,” said Val, “I’ll hop.”

“Not yet,” said the guard, “Please take off your shoe and put it on the belt with your crutches.”

Richard sat on a nearby chair and took off his shoe. He crutched to the belt and lay his crutches and his shoe on it. Then he hopped through the magnetic arch.

“Please put the other shoe on the belt,” called the man behind the monitor, without looking up.

“There isn’t another,” said Val, “I’ve only got one leg, so there’s only one shoe.”

The guard stood to look at Val, and then sat down, muttering, “Sorry mate.”

Then it was Richard’s turn. He explained that he could not walk without his crutches, so the guard put them through the machine, and then brought them back to Richard.

“Please step though the arch,” said the guard.

Richard stepped into the magnetic field of the machine, and immediately a lot of alarms started sounding. Val, safely back on his own crutches, turned and grinned. “This is going to happen rather a lot,” he thought.

The security guards sat Richard on a chair and began to pat him down. “Bloody hell, mate,” said the guard, “there’s a lot of metal here.”

“Yes,” said Richard, “from chin to toes.”

“You carry all this stuff around with you all the time?” said the guard.

“Yes, of course,” said Richard. “My equipment is strapped onto me at all times; without it I couldn’t get out of bed.”

“OK, well good luck,” said the guard. “You can go.”

One of the Virgin staff spotted Val and Richard and rushed over to them. “We can give you a buggy ride to the gate,” she said.

“No thanks,” said Richard. “We’re very early, and we’re happy to take our time.” He leaned close to the young Virgin staff member and spoke quietly. “We enjoy dealing with our disabilities, and we rather like it when other people stop and stare at how we manage.”

They set off through the airport. Val noticed a cute young man watching him intently, and he smiled. The young man instantly dropped his gaze to the floor, and blushed. “The first of our wannabe’s,” thought Val. “My image is now burned on his brain, and he’ll spend many years wishing he could get an amputation like mine.”

Once on the plane and settled in business class, the couple relaxed with a glass of champagne. Val turned to Richard. “Are we enjoying ourselves yet?” he asked.

“We certainly are,” said Richard. “I saw that boy watching you.”

“Yes, he blushed when I smiled at him. He’s no idea that I chose to have my leg off and I really don’t mind when potential wannabe’s stare. He could even have taken my photo if he’d wanted.”

“That’s one step too far,” laughed Richard. “Although I’m sure he won’t forget you.”

The taxi took them to the doors of the Empire Hotel, which they’d chosen because it’s close to the Lincoln Centre (for opera) and Central Park (for walking). They were very relieved when they entered their room and found their suitcase waiting for them. Richard collapsed onto the bed, and Val looked down at his lover.

“A siesta first” said Val, “and then a body wash and change of tee-shirt. You just relax in your bondage whilst I have a shower while you sleep. Then when we’re ready we’ll be out of here to our first great American dinner!”

Although neither of them was very interested in opera, Mo had insisted that they must go to the Met whilst in New York. After their first dinner, in a very traditional restaurant not far from the hotel, and a long deep sleep, the focus of their first day was to go to the Met. Richard had learned long ago that the severe restrictions of his braces, both the Milwaukee and the long leg braces with the punishing ischial rings, that he could easily try to do too much in a day; they remained quietly at the hotel for much of their first full day in order for Richard to have enough energy for the evening. They had booked a surprisingly early dinner at the opera house and then taken their places in the audience for La Bohème.

Mo had reassured them that they’d like the opera, and especially enjoy going to the opera house, and they were suitably impressed when they went to their seats, and amazed when the sputnik-like chandeliers rose up just before the beginning. Despite their lack of experience, they loved the opera and were blown away by the elaborate scenery, but Richard was still unconvinced that none of the singers had a microphone.

Whilst Richard and Valentine were enjoying New York, Mo was gathering a small group to go on a short European tour. After much heart-searching, Mo had abandoned his bizarre Perthes brace and taken to using a wheelchair. After five years with the Perthes, Mo’s left leg was showing much muscle wastage, and Mo decided he’d like to have it removed. “After our holiday,” he said, “I’d like to go and get my left leg amputated. I still don’t know if I’ll stay in a wheelchair or get a prosthetic.”

Mo spoke to Roy and Sam as they had always been the most enthusiastic for the trips to the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra in Poole. Although Sam had become proficient with his hooks, he was still lacking in confidence for a solo trip, so was very glad to join forces with Mo. Roy and David were also keen to join a group, and so it was that the four decided to make a European tour focussed on classical music and opera. They would travel everywhere by train.

After two weeks in New York, Richard and Valentine went by train to Chicago. They’d had a busy and rather exhausting time in New York, and Valentine was still excited that a very dishy young man had hit upon him in Washington Square. They’d done two Broadway shows, a concert in Carnegie Hall, and several art galleries, spending a whole day at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Even Valentine, who seemed to have enormous reserves of energy despite doing the whole trip on one leg, admitted that he was glad of a day or two of rest. They despatched their New York suitcase back to the UK, and with their minimal handbags got a taxi to Grand Central. Once the train had left the tunnel and was speeding through New York’s rather dismal suburbs, they both fell asleep.

Mo’s group would consist of two wheelchairs, a handless man, and one able-bodied helper. Mo himself took a pair of folding crutches in case he had to get out of his wheelchair, his left leg proving useless after he removed the Perthes brace.  Roy removed all of David’s shackles and chains but reminded him that he would still be his slave despite the removal of the restrictive equipment. He also told David that throughout the trip, he was expecting him to act as a slave to both Mo and Sam, something which David was delighted to agree to.

Check-in to Eurostar at St Pancras was rather a circus. First Sam’s steel hooks set off all the alarms, and he was taken to a side room to show his equipment to a couple of very inquisitive security guards. Next Mo had to assemble his crutches in order to crutch through the security machine. His wheelchair was tipped on its side and pushed into the x-ray tunnel. Roy’s wheelchair also had to be x-rayed, so David picked up Roy in his arms and carried him through the security machine. The wheelchair was very slow emerging from the machine, leaving Roy in David’s arms for a long time. David sat on a chair with Roy on his lap whilst they waited for the wheelchair. One of the security staff came over and apologised. “I see your friend is disabled,” said the guard to David, “but we need to pat you both down.”

“I am disabled,” said Roy loudly, “but I’d prefer if you could talk to me and not my carer.”

“Sorry sir,” said the guard, “but I need you on a separate chair.”

David put Roy onto another chair and the guard checked them both. “One of you set off the alarm when you walked through the machine,” said the guard. “We need to see which of you it was.”

“I’ll go first,” said David, “it’s probably me, but if it’s not, I don’t know how you’ll check my friend.”

David stepped through the machine, and the alarm sounded. “It’s me,” said David, “but I’m not sure how.”

Sam was just coming out of the side room, when David was taken in. David winked as he passed Sam. A hand-held detector machine buzzed repeatedly, as David was asked to remove his clothes, one by one. Finally he was standing naked in the booth, with the machine buzzing loudly close to his crotch.

“OK,” he sighed, “I didn’t realise it would matter, but I’m wearing a very large butt plug. My master … I mean my friend likes me to be plugged as much as possible.”

The guard swallowed hard. “I’m sorry sir, but can you take it out?”

David reached round to his arse and pulled. Out came a huge butt plug, the size and shape of an unusually large doorknob. The security guard gasped. “You wear that great thing up your arse? I thought I’d seen everything in this job, but that’s enormous.”

David grinned. “Do you want to feel its weight?”

Using a tissue, the guard took the butt plug. “Bloody hell it’s hot, and heavy. That must be about a kilo.”

“Yes it is,” said David not without a little pride. “Now if you want to put it through your machine, I’ll wait here and then pop it back inside where it belongs.”

Once they were all through security, they hurried to the first-class lounge and a very welcome cup of coffee. They were puzzled why David had been so long, but he did nothing but giggle. At last, when they were all settled with a coffee, he told them. “I’m wearing my biggest butt plug,” he said, “and you should have seen the look on the guard’s face when I pulled it out!”

The friends were unable to travel together as there was only one wheelchair space in each carriage. “See you in Paris,” said Roy as David pushed him to the ramp for his section of the train. “Watch out for the fishes,” joked Mo as he and Sam went towards their boarding point.

They met successfully despite Gare du Nord being very busy and joined the long taxi rank. Once again, with two wheelchairs, they could not travel together, and it took two taxis to get them to the Grande Hôtel du Champs Elysées. The two rooms they’d booked both had king-sized double beds. Roy and David had been sleeping together for some time, so there was no novelty there, but Mo and Sam had never slept together. They stayed at the hotel for dinner that first day, and all were tired at the end of the day of travelling. David quickly had his strong arms around his paralysed lover and they smiled together at the day’s adventures and the feeling of cuddling together in a big soft bed in the city of love.

Mo needed his crutches to move around the room. “My left leg really is dead,” he told Sam. “I’ll be glad to get it off.”

Sam slipped out of his arms and lay his hooks on a side table. “Come on,” he said, “I’ve been waiting a long time to get my stumps around you!” They feel into bed with enthusiasm, but sleep came upon them quickly.

Back in Dorset at Fulfilment Lodge, it seemed very quiet with six of the residents away. “What about you?” Mike asked the remaining residents. “Are you in the mood for travel?”

“We’ve talked about it,” said Charlie, “but we’re not ambitious for our first trip. It will be a big learning curve for both of us. As a blind man, I’ll have to learn to negotiate new environments, and Russell will have to cope with me holding onto him even whilst he deals with his braces and crutches.”

“Have you thought about where you might go?” said Mike.

“Actually, we thought we might just go up to London: stay somewhere posh and enjoy visiting the famous tourist places without ever seeing them. We’re not going yet, as we’ll wait for Richard and Valentine to be home before we take off. There’s got to be enough of us here to keep the old house going.”

“We’re not ready to travel,” said Tony. “We know we’ve been attached for five years, and we’ve really developed our lifestyle here, but we’re still not sure if the world is ready for Siamese twins, out and about conjoined as we are.”

“It will be nice to have you here,” said Mike, “and perhaps one day you will feel able to face the world as you want the world to see you. One day – we’ll see.”

“And we’re still talking,” said Stefan. “We’d love to go back to Mumbai, although the city is changing so fast, we may not even recognise it.”

“And we’re keen to go back to Australia, especially to go to the Sydney opera house. We’ve seen it from the outside but never been in it.”

“You’re being very quiet,” said Mike to Craig. “I bet you’ve been thinking.”

“Yes,” admitted Craig. “I want to go to Barcelona and see that great cathedral they are building there.”

“It’s not a cathedral,” said Warren.

“I know, you keep telling me that. It’s a basilica, but whatever it’s called, I’d like to see it.”

Richard and Valentine had remained sleepy for much of the long trip to Chicago. They’d revived briefly when a refreshment trolley came to their carriage but had fallen asleep again. They finally woke up in the Chicago suburbs, with the sun setting and a thousand miles behind them. Stretching, Valentine said, “Gosh I’m hungry.”

“So am I,” said Richard. “Let’s get a taxi to the hotel and then go out as quick as we can to get something to eat.”

They had chosen their American hotels via the internet and had been very pleased indeed with the old-fashioned charm of the Empire in Manhattan. They hoped that the Hampton Inn in Chicago would be similarly charming. In fact, it wasn’t, but was a very clean, modern and featureless hotel in downtown Chicago.

They dumped their hand baggage, briefly noticed that their big suitcase which they’d sent ahead, had arrived, washed their faces, and were quickly on the street to find food. “Go north on Michigan Avenue, you’ll find plenty of places,” they were told at the hotel, “and if you get as far as Water Tower Place, go in there.”

Although Valentine could swing along at great speed on his right leg, Richard was much slower, and after the day on the train, despite all the hours of dozing, he was still tired. They’d not gone two blocks when they found a nice-looking restaurant, and they went in. A very camp young waiter was over-excited by the sight of the two cripples, and he took them to a large round table, which had, as he said, “Plenty of leg room.” Valentine smiled at him. “Actually, I’m OK with less leg room, as I’ve only got one.” The camp waiter was flustered by Valentine’s forward response and laughed with embarrassment.

“I’m both too tired to have much appetite, and yet still very hungry,” said Richard. “I wish I could stretch like you, but of course I can’t. I wonder if I can get a simple plate of pasta?”

When the food arrived, the high-camp waiter produced an over-sized pepper mill and offered it to each of them, quickly followed by a similarly over-the-top presentation of parmesan cheese.

There were very few other diners as it was late for the usual Chicago dinner hour, and the waiter did not have very much to do. He stood back whilst they ate, but as soon as they started to slow down, he was back to their table offering desert, and it seemed, himself.

They both ordered ice cream, and when he brought it, the waiter introduced himself. “I’m Victor,” he said. “Am I right to detect British accents here?”

“Yes, you are,” replied Valentine. “We live together in Dorset, that’s right down on the south coast of England.”

“And where are you staying?” said Victor.

“At the Hampton Inn, not far from here.”

“Welcome to Chicago, boys,” said Victor. “Hampton Inn’s OK, nice and clean but a bit boring.” He paused and took a breath. “Tomorrow’s my day off. I could come and meet you at your hotel and give you a bit of a tour.”

Richard looked at Valentine and nodded. “OK, said Valentine. “Come to breakfast and you can tell us what to do in your city.”

Victor fluttered his eyelashes, amazed at such an easy pick-up. “OK,” he said, “breakfast it is.”

Richard was so tired that he fell asleep in his leg braces. He woke in the small hours of the morning, and nudged Valentine. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but can you take my braces off. I fell asleep.”

“I know you did,” said Valentine. “You’ve still got your shoes on.”

Valentine had worked on Richard’s long leg braces so often that he could get his lover out of them very quickly. “Now back to sleep. Remember we’re meeting Victor at nine, and I’d like to have a shower before breakfast.”

Victor was in the lobby when Richard and Valentine emerged from the lift. “It’s a lovely morning,” said Victor. “I think we will have a great day.”

They had got used to American breakfasts whilst at the Empire Hotel, so were able to order quickly and without fuss. They’d both developed a passion for pancakes with sausage and lashings of maple syrup. At the Empire the waiter had got used to leaving the jug of warm syrup on their table: the Hampton waiters would soon learn to do the same.

“This is how we travel,” they told Victor. “A big breakfast, not very much lunch and then a wonderful dinner. Speaking of which, do you know the Erie Café? It’s been recommended to us, and we’d like to take you.”

Victor was almost overcome. “You boys know how to live don’t you? We need a reservation to get into the Erie Café, so I’ll call now, and reserve. How about 6.00pm?”

They planned the rest of the day over breakfast. Victor suggested that they go up the Hancock Tower as a good introduction to the city, and they agreed they’d return to the Hampton for a siesta in the afternoon. They loved the Hancock as access was so easy via the express lift, and both men enjoyed crutching in their particular ways around the viewing platform. Victor stuck close to them at all times – he was clearly very attracted to both cripples, and Valentine in particular felt that he was especially keen to become intimate with him.

After a snack lunch, they returned to the hotel for a siesta. Richard trapped in all his steel and leather, became tired easily, and needed a daily rest. Victor followed them like a puppy dog, right into their bedroom. Valentine looked at him, and he grinned sheepishly. “I’m hoping that I might lie down with you,” he said, “it is a very big bed.”

“Come on then,” said Valentine, “but remember this is for a rest, nothing else.”

Valentine helped Richard undress, and Victor’s eyes opened very wide when he saw all of Richard’s braces. Once Richard was laid on the bed, Valentine undressed and lay down. “Come on,” he said again, “I know you want to cuddle up.”

Victor was quickly out of his clothes and then lay very close to Valentine. All three dozed off, with Victor’s head on Valentine’s shoulder. The room was peaceful.

After a while Valentine became aware that Victor was caressing his amputation scar. The young waiter was astonished that Valentine had no stump: his leg had been cut off at the hip, and there was nothing remaining of his leg.

“I want one of these,” whispered Victor.

“Go back to sleep for a little while, then we’ll talk,” said Valentine.

With his hand on Valentine’s amputation scar, Victor snuggled closer to the beautiful amputee and tried to sleep.

A little later, with everyone dressed again, Richard ordered room service to bring tea to the room. “That’s very rare,” said Victor, “but of course you’re English, so you would want tea.”

Once settled with the tea, and some very dull pastries, Valentine started the conversation. “You said something in bed that I think you need to talk about,” said Valentine.

“Yes,” said Victor, with some hesitation. “I hope this won’t upset you, but I really like your amputation. It’s what’s called LHD, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Valentine, “go on.”

“I’ve wanted an amputation like yours for as long as I can remember. I’ve found some stuff online – and I know I have BIID.”

Valentine nodded and there was a hint of a smile on his face.  There was a silence in the room. After a while, Victor said, “How did you come to lose your leg?”

Valentine smiled. “Don’t look so anxious. I was BIID as well, and about four years ago my leg was cut off in Mexico. I’ve used crutches ever since.”

“And you’ve never regretted it?”

“Not for one minute. I love being one legged.”

“Do you have a prosthetic?” said Victor.

“No, and I never will. This is how I have always meant to be, no left leg and permanent crutches. This is me.”

“This conversation could go on all night,” said Richard. “Can you take some time off, and spend the week with us? You can spend the time drooling over Valentine, and talk about being an amputee; and at the same time, you can see how life as a cripple is not always easy, and think how you’d cope if you got your leg off. You could not continue as a waiter. Now I think I’m ready for this trip to the Erie Café! Are you two joining me?”

They laughed and soon were heading to the lobby to get a taxi to the restaurant. It did not disappoint. The huge platter of raw steak was presented to them, and they each chose.

Two hours later, they staggered back out into the twilight. “That was amazing,” said Victor. “It’s far too expensive for me, and very generous of you to take me there. Now I’d like to take you to one of my favourite places.”

The taxi took them to the door of Marty’s Martini Bar. “Now you’ll have another very special Chicago experience,” said Victor.

“No we won’t,” said Richard. “There’s no way I can get down those steep stairs to the basement. This is lesson number one for anyone who is a future cripple: you won’t be able to do everything you want to, and many places are inaccessible, and remember that there are a few places that I can manage but my wheelchair friends can’t.”

Victor took a week off work, and apart from returning to his apartment to sleep, spent the whole week with Valentine and Richard. Most afternoons they went back to the Hampton for a siesta, and by the end of the week they had become firm friends. Valentine had explained to Victor how the Fulfilment Lodge had been created, and about their friends who lived there.

On their last day in the city, Richard took Victor to one side. “I’m not sure if you have realised, but we are wealthy. We could afford to pay for you to get your leg off, but not in too much of a hurry. We suggest you go back to work for a few weeks, then come to the UK and stay with us for a holiday. If you are still certain of your destiny as an amputee, we’ll arrange it.”

Meanwhile in Paris, the four musketeers were finding the city more difficult than they’d expected. The first challenge had arisen on their first day.

“Let’s start at the most obvious,” said Mo. “Up the Eiffel Tower. We’ll get a taxi.”

They asked the hotel concierge to get them a taxi. “I don’t think so, said the concierge. “They won’t take two wheelchairs in a taxi.”

Just as they couldn’t travel together on Eurostar, the group found that they would have to split to go anywhere in Paris.

“What about using the Metro?” said David.

“No,” said Sam. “I’d need your help to get through the turnstiles – handling coins is one of the hardest things for me; and that’s the least of the difficulties. There are steps everywhere, and no chance to get a wheelchair onto the Metro even with help.”

“So, it’s taxis everywhere we go, and two every time.”

The challenges continued at the Eiffel tower. The taxis tipped them out, and once they were all together again, Roy sighed, “Look at that sea of gravel. I hate gravel even with David’s help. You’ve not been in a chair for long, Mo, but you just wait and see what it’s like to go across acres of gravel like this.”

David pushed Roy to the base of the Tower, and Sam did his best to help Mo. At last, they were in the queue to buy tickets. At the window they asked for four tickets to the top.

“No,” said the cashier, “we do not allow wheelchairs to go up to the top. You can have tickets to go to the second level, but that’s it.”

Roy looked at Mo. “When I decided to get my spinal injury, I knew there would be difficulties, and times when being a cripple would make things impossible. I suppose accepting that we can’t go to the top of the Eiffel Tower is just part of enjoying being a cripple.”

Mo grinned at him. “Put that way, I know what you mean. I like being disabled, and I like the difficulties that come with being a cripple.  I feel almost proud that I can’t go to the top. David, you go up with Sam and we’ll wait for you on level two.”

They bought the appropriate tickets, and Roy and Mo relaxed over excellent coffee at the Madame Brasserie, whilst the others went all the way to the top. They checked for access at the Jules Verne Restaurant and booked to return the same evening. After the usual hiatus getting a pair of taxis back to the hotel, then a similar challenge returning to the Eiffel Tower, they were finally settled at a table in the very exclusive Jules Verne.

“So,” said Sam, “what do you think of Paris so far?”

“I love the city,” said Mo, “but I’d no idea it would be so difficult to get around. Clearly we’re not going to be able to use the Metro, it’s tricky to know which buses go where, and quite a lot of the taxis are reluctant to take us wheelers.”

“I’m thankful that we have David with us,” said Roy. “I need him more than ever in this city.”

David smiled. “For me, this is a good experience, as I can be a slave to all three of you.”

“And we’ll even let you sit on the furniture,” joked Roy.

“I’d like to go to the opera,” said Sam. “Surprisingly there’s a production of Billy Budd tomorrow.”

“You mean, we’ve come all the way to Paris, and we’re going to an opera in English?” said Roy.

“Yes,” laughed Sam, “and it’s all about the British navy fighting the French.”

“Where is it being performed?” said Mo. “I’m definitely keen to see it.”

“Bastille,” said Sam. “They seem to do mainly ballet at Garnier.”

“Let’s see if we can book a guided tour of Opera Garnier,” said Mo, “and book for Billy Budd at the Bastille.”

The meal progressed with good natured conversation between the three, with David, in his usual slave mode watching and listening, but he did not speak except to tell the others that he’d like to go to the opera, if Roy would allow it. The huge mechanism of the tower lift whirled constantly just the other side of a glass partition, and they agreed it had been an evening to cherish and remember.

The following day, they asked the hotel concierge to make the reservations for them for both Garnier tour and Billy Budd at the Bastille. They were alarmed to watch the concierge becoming rather agitated, and when he put the phone down, he explained. Sam and David could go on the Garnier tour, but the two wheelers could not go, as the tour was not accessible. He could get tickets for Billy Budd, but the friends would not be able to sit together.

“That’s OK for the opera,” said Sam, “as we’re not going to talk to one another during the opera, but it’s a bugger that we can’t do the tour at Garnier.”

“Another of the restrictions that wheelchair users face,” said Roy. “You two go ahead, and we’ll hang out in the Galleries Lafeyette restaurant.”

A couple of days later and all were installed in the Bastille Opera House. Sam had seen Billy Budd before, and was very excited that his three friends would have this exciting new experience. The Parisian chorus had clearly been given excellent coaching, as their English was immaculate, and they sang the famous “Can’t stand the French” chorus with gusto. Afterwards Roy admitted to giggling at that point of the opera, and they had all felt tears filling their eyes when Billy was executed.

After a week in the City of Love. It was time to move on to their next destination, Milan. This city had been included in their itinerary because Mo was particularly keen to go to La Scala. They had prebooked for this night at the Italian opera and dressed in their best for Traviata. Central Milan turned out to be easier for the wheelers, but they didn’t stray far from their hotel. They loved the glamour of the opera, and were delighted that Milan Cathedral was accessible. The hotel organised a couple of taxis (“just like being in Paris,” said Roy) for them to go and see the famous Last Supper, and the guards at the chapel were particularly helpful seeing the group though the airlock to see the famous mural.

After Milan, it was time for the group to split. Roy was keen to see Venice, and judged that with lots of help from David, they’d be able to have a few days there. Mo, on the other hand, as the least experienced wheeler, realised that there was no way he could cope with Venice. Sam, who had been to Venice before, agreed that Mo could not go to Venice, and arranged to travel home with him. Although he coped very well with day-to-day life at the lodge, Sam was nervous of travelling alone, and particular liked having Mo to deal with tickets, passports and other situations which were awkward without hands.

In the USA, Richard and Valentine had come to the end of their holiday. Richard had been surprised that his extreme bracing and restrictive ability to walk, had meant that he had become tired so easily. “I suppose that any cripple who carries around such a weight of steel will find they become exhausted very easily,” said Richard, “but I thought after all these years I’d have gained much more strength. The fact is, I need a siesta every day.”

Valentine had used Richard’s sleep hour each day to crutch around the city, always with a very excited Victor with him. Victor accompanied them to O’Hare airport and was tearful when he said farewell to them.

“Give it six months,” said Valentine, “and then if you’re still certain, you can fly to us. On your trip, you must always be a pretender, keep your left leg up off the floor – don’t even bring any left-foot shoes - and get used to crutches.”

“That’s what I do at home,” said Victor. “It will be exciting to do it for the trip to you.”

“I love being one-legged,” said Valentine. “You must be as certain as I was if we are to sponsor your amputation.”

The small town of Wareham had a small station, and only a few taxis; thus, the few taxi drivers were becoming used to the variously disabled clients who arrived from London needing to be taken to Fulfilment Lodge. When Richard and Valentine got to the taxi rank, the driver recognised them “I’ve not seen you for a while,” he said, “Where’ve you been?”

Richard grinned. “New York and Chicago,” he said. “We’ve had a great holiday; and a couple of our friends will be back from a European trip in a few days.”

“Where’s your luggage?” asked the taxi driver.

“Coming by itself, “said Valentine. “It’s expensive, and takes a lot of planning, be we can’t carry luggage, so we sent it ahead when we went out, and it’s hopefully somewhere on its way home now.”

It had become a kind of tradition whenever anyone had been away from the Lodge for a day, to call in to Mike as soon as they were home again. Richard and Valentine were especially keen to go straight to their iron lung friend when they got to the Lodge, and they kissed Mike on the lips and sat close to him to tell him all about the trip.

“You know,” said Richard, “it seems somehow amazing that we’ve done so much and travelled so many miles, and all the time you’ve never moved or left this little room.”

“Yes,” said Mike, “this is my destiny. I suppose in a way you could say that I’m living 24-7 my fetish life. Once there were days when I wondered about leaving the lung, but no longer. I know I’m here for the rest of my days. I enjoy hearing all about your travels, but I don’t have any desire to go. I cannot imagine a day without my machine breathing for me, nor having this tight collar around my neck. The miracle of you finding and buying, and dragging my lung from France all those years ago, has given me the life I always wanted.”

Stefan and Johan were particularly pleased to welcome Richard and Valentine home, as they were planning a big and long trip themselves and did not want to depart without seeing their friends. “We’re going round the world,” Stefan announced over dinner, “and we’ll let you know how we manage on wheels.”

“No-where will be as tricky as Paris,” said Mo. “I under-estimated the difficulties in Paris.”

“I have a feeling that we’ll encounter worse,” said Johan, “our trip starts in Mumbai.”

“India!” exclaimed Sam, “That’s going to be a trick and a half!”

“But it’s a special kind of pilgrimage for us,” said Stefan. “It was during visits to Mumbai that we watched amputees of many kinds, begging in the street. Many of them were originally able-bodied, and had been crippled, or chose to be crippled, in order to become full-time beggars. We saw young men with all four limbs cut off, and although that’s not what we wanted, we agreed out there that we’d be fulfilled in our lives if we lost our legs. Becoming legless wheelchair users, and finding friendship here at home, means we live very happy and fulfilled lives. We owe the original idea, and the inspiration to pursue our destiny, to those legless beggars in the city. We’re very keen to go and find them again, this time legless ourselves and in harmony with them.”

“After a month in Mumbai, we’re heading for Sydney. It’s the longest of the flights we’ve booked,” said Johan. “Then Auckland in New Zealand, and finally home via San Francisco.”

“Here’s a thought,” said Richard. “I wonder if you two should switch to electronic wheelchairs. I wonder if you’re not young enough to attempt such a journey in manual chairs.”

“We both love wheeling,” said Johan.

“But you may be right,” said Stefan. “It’s easy here living in a house which is completely wheelchair friendly and moving around our easy garden down to the spa. Who knows how we’ll cope in a very hilly city? Mumbai won’t be too bad, but our other destinations could be very tricky.”

“Is Sydney hilly?” said Johan.

“I don’t know,” said Richard, “but you’d better do some homework; and if you’re going to switch to electric chairs, you need to buy them and get used to using them before you embark on your trip.”

The next day Stefan and Johan made an announcement at breakfast. “We had a long talk last night, then went on-line to see what we could see. First, we discovered that Sydney is really hilly, and in fact even the hotel we’ve picked is on such a steep hill that manual chairs won’t work; then we checked Auckland, and it appears to be hiller than Sydney. And of course, we already knew that San Francisco has some pretty steep hills. So, in the middle of the night we ordered a pair of electronic wheelchairs for our trip.

“A very sensible idea,” said Valentine, “and you never know, it might be that one or two of use might even borrow one of your chairs when you get back home again.”

A few days later, Mo and Sam arrived home, and Mo was very enthusiastic about the idea of electronic chairs. “I’ve had a great trip,” he said, “and I’m keen to plan another; but there were a few times when I wished I wasn’t pushing all the time. Manual chairs might be all very well for younger men, but I’m a bit too old…”

“And we’re older than you!” laughed Stefan.

Whilst these conversations were going on at Fulfilment Lodge, David and Roy were in Venice.

“Bloody hell,” said David, “I can tell what your last slave died of!”

“That’s hardly acceptable language or sentiment for a slave,” laughed Roy, “but I know what you mean. I knew this city would be a challenge, but it’s much worse than I expected.”

David had tried carrying Roy seated in his chair over the many bridges in Venice, but quickly discovered that this was too awkward, and potentially dangerous for them both if David fell. They’d then resorted to David carrying Roy over the bridge, putting him down on the pavement and returning for the chair. Sometimes a member of the public, seeing what was happening, had carried the chair for them. Roy had very mixed feeling about this. Just like the time coming through airport security, when David had carried him, he liked being lifted by his fit young slave, although the obvious staring of the public was becoming rather tedious.

It was equally challenging at their hotel. They’d been unable to find a Venetian hotel that was wheelchair friendly, and David had to carry Roy up and down the stairs. Of course, once they were in their room, and Roy was safely on the bed, they had some very joyous sessions of kissing, but the whole experience was exhausting for David.

“This is not a city for a wheeler,” said Roy.

“Unless he has a brilliant slave,” said David. “I didn’t expect to come on a holiday and develop such muscles.”

“We can celebrate when we get home by giving my loyal slave his freedom,” said Roy.

“Except that’s exactly what I don’t want,” said David. “I love you, and I love being your slave. I’ll always be your slave, and I’ll never want my freedom.”

If moving around the city clambering over the many bridges was difficult, getting on to, and off again, a vaporetto was even more challenging. David realised that he was dependent on someone else to deal with Roy’s chair, and he would scoop up Roy in his arms like a baby to jump on board the moving boat.

In all these acrobatics, Roy would quietly celebrate his disability; never had he felt so delighted to be paralysed; never had he enjoyed being carried in David’s arms; and never had he been so thoroughly pleased with his handicap.

For a week the pair enjoyed Venice. Roy lost count of how many times David carried him over a bridge, onto a vaporetto, or up and down the steps to a church or museum, and David ensured that Roy’s paralysis never prevented him from seeing all the sights or enjoying all the restaurants.

At last, the time came for them to take a water taxi across the lagoon to the airport, and fly home. “We have quite an adventure to tell Mike all about,” said Roy, “and the intimacy of you carrying me, has brought us even closer together as lovers.”

The residents of Fulfilment Lodge were astonished that Roy and David had successfully negotiated Venice, and Roy was pleased to tell them all that it had only been possible because of the way David had picked him up in his arms and carried him so much.

It was several weeks before Stefan and Johan set of on their global journey. They realised that there wouldn’t be anyone like David to pick them up when they reached any obstacles, so they planned very thoroughly to ensure that their new electronic wheelchairs would be able to access all that they wanted to do. They used their new chairs around the grounds of the Lodge, and also indoors, although they were surprised that their mobility around the place was not as easy as with their manual chairs. They were also rather shocked to discover that they couldn’t even travel to Wareham Station together, as no taxi could cope with two electronic chairs, and there was no way the minibus could be used as it had been for many journeys with manual chairs.

The train to Waterloo was easy, and then two taxis (again!) to Heathrow. Booking business class included excellent attention and help at the airport, and they had planned carefully how they would access their flight. At the door of the aircraft, they removed their wheelchair batteries and transferred to the horrible airline aisle chair to be manhandled to their seats.

In the chaos of Mumbai airport, they were greatly relieved to meet the hotel’s staff who would take them to the hotel. They had booked the five-star Taj Mahal Tower, and after a couple of rather long telephone calls to the hotel, had been able to explain that they were two legless friends, travelling together in two electronic wheelchairs. The hotel porters took them through the airport scrum and out to a big van which could take both chairs, and quickly they were out into the chaotic Mumbai traffic.

After an hour of car horns and extraordinary sights and smells, they arrived at the hotel. They had both been to Mumbai before but not stayed at the glorious Taj Tower. They were unprepared for the courteous way they were welcomed into the hotel with iced tea served as they checked in and were quickly into the lift and up to a high floor suite. They loved the profusion of flowers decorating every surface of the hotel’s lobby and breathed the heady jasmine perfume which filled all the public rooms.

They had not expected the way in which the hotel staff treated them, with utmost care and attention, and they finally relaxed in their luxurious suite.

“We made it,” said Stefan.

“I’m sure we’re going to enjoy it here,” said Johan. “I’m very relieved that it all worked so well being met at the airport and getting to the hotel.”

“We’re getting what we paid for,” said Stefan. “I’m sure most people who stay here are well-heeled, and they staff know they’ll get great tips.”

“Even from a couple who don’t have heels!” laughed Johan. “I’d like a siesta, then I’ll be ready to explore. We know from the publicity that the hotel has several restaurants.”

“And we’re going to try them all!” said Stefan.

After a couple of days of luxury in the huge hotel, they decided the time had come to pay their planned pilgrimage to the temple where they had made the decision to have their legs amputated. This was called “Haji Ali Dargah” and was a rather ramshackle temple built on a tiny island just off the coast, which could be reached by a causeway. The causeway is covered by the sea at high tide, but as the tide goes down, a horde of maimed and crippled beggars take up positions with their begging bowls all along the footpath to the temple.

Johan and Stefan talked to the concierge at the hotel about their pilgrimage. At first, he tried to stop them going, but when he realised that they were determined, he was very helpful. He arranged a basket of fruit each for them to give to the monks at the temple as offerings to the gods, and for the hotel’s van to take them together to the end of the causeway, where the moneylenders would change their rupees into handfuls of annas. They arranged to meet their driver in about three hours and set off along the concrete path. The various beggars could see from their clothes and smart electronic chairs, that they were wealthy, although there were plenty of other rich pilgrims alongside them.

They soon found the amputee beggars who had inspired them to become cripples themselves.  Many had no hands or feet, and many others had both legs removed. A few had no limbs at all, and some were mere torsos, lying on their backs where their beggar-masters had put them. Stefan and Johan gave coins to almost every beggar and received much blessing and praise as they progressed along the causeway towards the temple. Each of them took the chance to look closely at the assortment of cripples, and the disabilities that had been inflicted upon them to make them worthy of the alms that they begged for.

Stefan and Johan had forgotten that there were a lot of steps to get to the shrine, but a gang of willing volunteers carried them up, sitting in their chairs, to the shrine and the waiting monks. They presented their baskets of fruit and were blessed by the monks. They were then carried back to the causeway.

The handicapped beggars were restlessly preparing for the difficult crawl back to dry land. Some of the most maimed were carried, but most shuffled along on the concrete using what little was left of their limbs to move. At the beginning of the walkway, the beggars changed their bowls of annas into rupees, and the weird collection of cripples dispersed towards their sleeping places with their day’s takings, and to await the tidal water’s retreat so that the whole process could repeat the next day.

The hotel driver soon had them back at the Taj, and they retreated to their room. Sitting together on the floor of the shower, as they always did, they reflected on the experience.

“I wonder how many of those crippled men enjoy their amputations or do many feel angry that they had limbs removed?” said Stefan.

“We both enjoy our leglessness,” said Johan.

“Yes, but we chose what we wanted,” said Stefan. “Many of the crips we saw today were given amputations when they were children, so that they had no choice but to beg.”

“I hope that some of them are as happy as we are,” said Johan. “It’s certainly strange to see so many limbless men altogether in one place.”

“For most of them, they have never known any other kind of life and will remain crawling as best they can for their whole lives. How did you feel when you saw the crips who had been turned into torsos, with arms and legs cut off?”

“I can understand that it’s possible for a BIID sufferer to need all limbs removed, but it’s a terribly hard life living without limbs reliant on others here. We love Craig, our limbless torso at home, but we know he’s dependent on Warren. I do occasionally wonder about getting one arm taken off, but never both,” said Johan.

“I just love being as I am,” said Stefan, “and I am amazed at how wonderful I feel travelling the world without legs.”

“I think it’s time for a swim in that beautiful pool,” said Johan. “Two legless men in speedos will give the other guests something to look at.”

In their speedo swimming costumes and wrapped in big hotel dressing gowns, they went down to the ground floor and rolled through to the old section of the hotel. They paused to admire the elaborate staircase and the enormous dome above it, then wheeled to the edge of the pool. Two pool boys came rushing over to see if they needed help, but Stefan and Johan were well experienced at sliding to the floor, out of their robes, and into the water. They were both competent swimmers after their daily swim in the Fulfilment Spa, and after a few lengths of the pool, rested together under a fountain pouring out of the mouth of a stone lion.

“This whole experience is surreal,” said Johan. “From the poverty and filth of this morning’s cripples to the sublime luxury of this hotel: are we still in the same country, the same city?”

“Yes, we are,” said Stefan. “It’s a city of extreme contrasts.”

“And we bridge those contrasts,” said Johan, “with our amputations making us like the crippled beggars, and our money letting us stay in all this luxury.”

They swam some more, then went to the steps to get out of the water. The pool boys, anxious to be helpful, ran to them with towels, helped them get dry and back into their wheelchairs, then piled them with glasses of iced tea.

Sitting in the perfumed air, sipping their tea, they reflected on their experience.

“It is a very refined lifestyle,” said Johan.

“I think of Mike,” said Stefan. “There will be so much to tell him when we get home, but it’s odd that at this moment as we enjoy this luxury in Mumbai, he’s still lying exactly as we left him, in that great iron lung breathing for him, and he’ll still be exactly in the same prison when we get home from all our adventure.”

“Just as we are happy amputees, travelling without legs, so he’s happy in his own way, trapped by his neck in that metal tank, living his whole life through a mirror, and never expecting to be released from his extreme bondage.”

Johan and Stefan continued to enjoy the luxurious Taj, including the various restaurants and the musicians who played daily in the staircase lobby, but they were restless with their memories of the crippled beggars at the Haji Ali Dargah.

“You know,” said Johan, a few days later when they were relaxing by the pool, “I’ve been wondering what it’s like to be down on the ground, in the dust and dirt, begging like all those crippled men at the temple. What if I was to get some raggedy clothes and a begging bowl? I could spend an hour or two with them and get the full experience of being a public cripple.”

Stefan was not shocked as he’d had similar thoughts but was very hesitant. “I’ll support you if you want to try, but it will be very difficult to go out of the hotel as a beggar. How will you do it?”

“We’ll buy ragged clothes from one of these street sellers and then go to the temple. I’ll change in the van and climb down into the road. You can watch and rescue me if needed.”

For Johan the experience was extraordinary. As first he felt an imposter, but the tourists were soon treating him the same as other beggars, and he started to feel a strange emotional bond with the other beggars. “It kind of validates being legless, “he said afterwards, “almost a final state that my desire was leading me to. You should do it tomorrow: I promise you won’t regret it.”

The following day saw Stefan as a beggar, and he began to feel as Johan had felt, the squalor and degradation of begging in ragged clothes completed his fetish for disability, and to be seen as a cripple. The hotel’s van driver was very puzzled at first but began to see what the two men were doing.

“Part of me would like to stay here,” said Johan.

“I understand that,” said Stefan, “but we’re only play-acting. We’d soon tire of the dirt and poverty. We are lucky that at the end of the day we’re not crawling away to some makeshift hovel, but a lovely shower in a luxury hotel. One day of that is more than enough for me. We must store away the experience and relive it in our imaginations.”

They returned once more as tourists and distributed more alms to the poor cripples, as well as giving the meagre takings they had made themselves when begging. After several emotional days, the time had come to check out of the Taj and continue their journey.

Their Sydney hotel was grand, although not at the five-star level of the Taj. When they checked into the Sir Stamford Hotel, they were extremely relieved that they had chosen to travel with electronic chairs. They had chosen the Sir Stamford for its proximity to the opera house but had not realised until they got there that it was halfway up a very steep hill.

The ferries in Sydney harbour had excellent wheelchair access, so their first views of the opera were from the water. They’d pre-booked a wheelchair tour of the opera house, as well as a performance of Traviata on their first evening. They loved Sydney and took in many of the sights, but remained close to their hotel where they could retreat each afternoon for a siesta and to recharge their chairs.

They’d booked into the Intercontinental in Auckland and were once more in a rather anonymous hotel with excellent facilities but no local charm. They objected to being given rooms on the first floor, as they wanted to enjoy the view across the harbour, and after some wrangling with the manager, were taken to a spectacular suite on the top floor. At first Auckland gave them the impression of being quite flat as they wheeled along the harbour front, but as soon as they turned inland they discovered more very steep hills, which reminded them of Sydney.

Just like their experience in Australia, they found wheelchair access to be very easy most of the time, and they enjoyed their trip to the top of the Sky Tower, which gave them a panoramic view of the oceans in all directions from the city.

They enjoyed the slightly old-fashioned Queen Street with its department store which seemed to them to be stuck in 1950, and they attended an excellent symphony concert in Auckland’s grand town hall.

“It’s all very nice here,” said Stefan, but I miss the chaos and dirt of Mumbai.”

“So do I,” said Johan. “It’s not so hard being disabled in Australia or New Zealand, at least in the main cities, as long as you have a power chair.”

“I couldn’t live in either Sydney nor here in Auckland if I was relying on my manual chair,” laughed Stefan. “There’s no way I could have managed these hills.”

The Intercontinental had arranged a side-trip for the pair to go to Rotorua, as they particularly wanted to see a hot geyser. They flew on a short Air New Zealand flight to Rotorua where they were met by a luxury minibus to taken them to the hot springs. Once more, they found wheelchair access to be good. “I’m almost disappointed that we’re not encountering greater difficulties,” said Stefan.

“Remember that money talks,” said Johan. “It may not have been quite so easy if we hadn’t spent so much time with advanced planning and paying for up-market travel.”

Back in the spa at Fulfilment Lodge, one or two unexpected relationships were developing. Jacob, the very pretty young deaf pool boy had taken to helping Charlie when they were in the pool. The link between them wasn’t easy as Jacob could not hear a word that Charlie said, and Charlie could not see Jacob. The relationship was entirely one of silent trust, communicated via touch. Russell, who had been Charlie’s lover for several years, encouraged his boyfriend to spend time with Jacob, as he was worried that Charlie’s world was very limited by his blindness. Russell was also able to write notes on Jacob’s i-pad for him to read when Charlie wanted to communicate.

The three decided they’d like to go on a holiday, to catch up with the exciting travels of the others, but Charlie was nervous of anywhere new. “I know the others have gone on grand trips,” he said, “but I’d just like to go somewhere more ordinary. How about Blackpool?”

With Russell the cook away at the same time as Jacob the pool boy, there were some complicated changes to the running of the Lodge. Jacob gave pool maintenance instructions to Sam and Mo, who felt they could manage to keep the spa running, and Valentine was happy to become temporary cook as long as Russell promised to take back responsibility when he returned.

Jacob sat with Charlie and Russell pawing over the internet for hotels in Blackpool. Jacob would see a photograph of a hotel he liked the look of, and point to it, which meant that Russell would have to explain to Charlie what they were looking at. Eventually after much discussion and laughter, they chose the huge and boring-looking Grand. Russell summed up their decision by saying, “It’s disabled friendly, and we are going there as three disabled people; it’s got a few really big suites which will suit us, and we must have a super-king-sized bed.”

“Super-king-sized?” said Charlie.

“Well, we are all going to sleep together, aren’t we?” said Russell.

When Russell wrote that message on Jacob’s i-pad, he grinned broadly, and there were hugs and kisses all round.

The three men found travel on trains easy – they were all three able to walk, although Russell was slow with his leg braces and crutches, and Charlie could hold onto either his lover, or their special deaf friend Jacob. They travelled with rucksacks to minimise baggage and keep their hands free and were soon marching from Blackpool Station to find the Grand Hotel.

“I can smell the sea,” said Charlie. “It’s great to have new smells!”

A little further, and Charlie laughed. “And now I can smell fish and chips!”

“That’s a smell you’d better get used to,” said Russell, “as it’s very much the smell of Blackpool.”

They found their way to the promenade, with Charlie picking out other smells, some familiar and some unknown, and turned north.  Jacob broke free from the other two and ran ahead, leaping and twirling on the freedom of the promenade. Russell told Charlie what Jacob was doing: “It’s as if he’s never been on a holiday like this before,” said Russell.

“Perhaps he hasn’t,” said Charlie. “We don’t know him very well, do we?”

They found the huge brick edifice of the Grand Hotel, and ventured into the cavernous lobby, Jacob suddenly cowed by the place. “I’ve never been in a place like this,” he said. “What do we do now?”

At the desk the clerk looked at the three guests. We’ve got a suite booked for you,” said the clerk, “but it’s only got one bed.”

“Is it super-king sized?” asked Russell.

“Yes sir,” said the clerk.

“Then that’s exactly what we want,” said Russell. “You see my friends are handicapped, one blind and one deaf. We will all be looking out for one another, and most definitely sleeping together.”

“Three of you?” said the clerk.

“Three of us,” said Russell emphatically. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“If you’re sure sir,” said the clerk. “Now where is your luggage?”

“On our backs,” said Russell, “we are travelling with just our rucksacks.”

On arrival in their room, they stood back for Charlie to explore it. Without any sight, he would need to know his way around by touch.  “it’s as big as our room at home,” said Charlie. “I’m going to like it here.”

“And look at the view,” blurted Jacob, immediately embarrassed. “Oh sorry Charlie, you can’t see it.”

“Then you must describe it to me. Open the window a little so I can smell the view whilst you tell me.”

Once Russell had made sure Jacob understood what was required, Jacob took Charlie in his arms and stood by the window. “There’s miles and miles of beach, and the sea is a long way away, it must be low tide, I expect it will look different when the tide comes in. Just to our left is a big Victorian pier – that’s a kind of building out over the beach towards the sea,” (“I know what a pier is,” said Charlie, although Jacob did not know he had spoken), “and on the pier there’s a theatre. Beyond that I can see a big wheel and lots of people and donkeys and lots of flashing lights and all kinds of things.”

“Stop, stop,” laughed Charlie. “You can tell me about each thing when we get there. I’m just happy to have found a great big bed and have my two lovely friends here to share it, and he turned and felt for the bed, sitting on the edge. Jacob and Russell sat beside him, and then all three rolled back onto the bed in a mad three-way hug. “Ouch,” exclaimed Charlie, “your braces are very hard when you roll onto them.”

“That’s all my steel, and soon you’ll have to take me out of them so that we can really relax.”

Jacob looked from one to the other, puzzled. “Are we going to have some dinner, or are we just going to have sex?”

Charlie laughed. “Perhaps it’s dinner first, but then who knows what will happen?”

“What happens in Blackpool must stay in Blackpool!” said Russell. Jacob frowned, and Russell wrote his message on the i-pad. Jacob read it and laughed some more.

Lying on the crisp white sheets of the Auckland Intercontinental, Johan lazily rubbed his amputation scars. “You know,” he said to his lover, “I’ve been having some strange thoughts. How would you feel if we didn’t go to San Francisco but returned home via Mumbai. I hope you don’t think this is too weird, but I’d like to go and live with the cripples at the temple for a week, or even longer. I suppose it’s some kind of deep strange fetish, but I’d really like to live that strange begging life for a week. This life of white sheets and luxury hotel is all very well, but it seems to be part of my destiny to at least experience the abject squalor of the limbless beggars. After all, it’s what prompted me to want to become an amputee.”

“I hear you,” said Stefan, “and I think I understand you. It’s not something I want, one day was enough for me; but if you want to follow your destiny, I won’t stop you. If you’re sure, we’ll cancel the San Francisco hotel and change the plane tickets to go back to Mumbai.”

“I’m sure,” said Johan.

Stefan was pleased to support his husband, although he was fearful for his well-being. “You’ll be on your own,” he said, “without a phone and no way of contacting me. Once we leave you there, you’ll be committed. I’ll be at the Taj hotel, in luxury, but constantly worried.”

“Please don’t worry,” said Johan. “I’ve thought about this a lot. I suppose it’s living my fetish, and I know I’ll be glad to get back to you at the end, but I want to do this.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“I’ll follow the other cripples. I know there’s a big motorway complex right beside the sea, and I can sleep under there; or else there’s a park close by, perhaps that’s where many of them sleep.”

“And for food?” said Stefan.

“Just like the others. I’ll rely on the alms I get from the tourists and buy what I can each evening. I’ll simply follow the others.”

A week later, and Stefan and Johan were in the Taj van being taken to the Haji Ali. Johan changed in the van, and dropped down into the road, leaving his wheelchair, phone and everything of his usual life behind. “We’ll be at this same corner in the evening of ten days’ time,” said Stefan. “Good luck.”

“I love you,” said Johan, “thank you letting me do this. See you in ten days.”

He dragged himself away from the van, and into the dirt of the gutter, following the tourists towards the Haji Ali causeway. Stefan watched for a while, but soon lost sight of Johan in the crowds. “This will be quite a tale to tell the others back at the Lodge,” he thought, “assuming my lovely man survives his ordeal.”

Charlie was used to considerable independence in his daily life at Fulfilment Lodge and found being in a hotel very challenging. He especially found the buffet breakfast difficult and was very reliant on Russel to help. Jacob danced attendance, but was unable to hear anything Charlie said, so found it hard to be useful.

For the first day in Blackpool the three friends did not go far from the hotel. Charlie was nervous negotiating a strange place, and Russell was never fast in his braces. Jacob was child-like in his enjoyment of all the new sights, and they took a long time wandering until they were near the famous tower.

“I can remember what it looks like from my sighted days,” said Charlie.

Jacob became even more excited. “Can we go up it?” he asked, and Russell nodded, writing quickly on the i-pad, “tomorrow”.

They wandered on and had the inevitable lunch of fish and chips. Charlie preferred eating with his fingers, so Blackpool’s best fish and chips suited him very well. In the afternoon they found themselves at the Central Pier. “There’s an Elvis impersonator in the theatre this evening,” said Russell. “Would you like to go?”

It wasn’t Russell’s first choice pf entertainment, but both Charlie and Jacob loved it. The volume was pumped up very high and Jacob loved watching the singer and feeling the rhythm through the vibrations of the building; Charlie also could enjoy the show as he could remember what the real Elvis looked like and thus imagine what was happening on the stage.

It was dark when the three returned to the hotel, although Charlie was unaware of daylight or night. “You know,” said Jacob, “we’ve had a great day, and we’ve had very little to drink, so we’re not coming home drunk like many of the late-night people we’ve seen.”

“I’m exhausted,” said Russell. You two are much better than I at all this walking. My braces and crutches slow me down.”

“Thanks for taking me,” said Charlie. “When I chose to become blind, I always had it in my mind to do days like this and enjoy strange places without being able to see them. It’s a thrill for me, and very satisfying.”

When Russell wrote this on Jacob’s i-pad, Jacob nodded vigorously. “Yes,” he said. “When I decided to destroy my hearing, I always knew that there would be times when I’d be especially pleased to enjoy a situation like today with that Elvis man.”

 “I glad it’s been a satisfying start to our holiday,” said Russell, “but tomorrow you’ll have to have an adventure without me. Why don’t you two go out in the morning, and we’ll meet for lunch.”

Dragging his torso along in the gutter with his hands, Johan quickly became as dirty as the other beggars, and although some of them might have wondered why a white man was in their midst, they mainly saw him as legless, and thus a regular part of the cripple scene. Johan crossed the main road hoping that the noisy traffic could see him in the road, and he made his way slowly down to the causeway. He dragged himself along until he was about halfway to the temple and there was a wide gap between the other beggars. He pulled his begging bowl out from under his shirt, pulled his ragged shorts up to expose his stump scars, and settled to wait. It wasn’t long before the jangle of coins being thrown into his bowl made him hopeful that he’d make enough for something to eat at the end of the day.

“Look after my boyfriend,” wrote Russell on Jacob’s i-pad.

“No problem,” said Jacob, “we’ll be fine.

Jacob’s speech was normal, as he’d not become deaf until his late teenage years. Charlie could hear Jacob, but when he spoke to reply, Jacob could not hear him. Equally, being blind, Charlie could not write on Jacob’s i-pad. Communication between the two was tricky, and Russell was nervous of the two of them venturing out into the Blackpool sunshine.

“I’ll be very careful,” said Jacob. “Without you, we’ll walk down the promenade to the Pleasure Beach; I’ve seen pictures of it, and it will be great fun.”

“I trust him,” said Charlie. “Please write that on his i-pad, and then we’ll get going.”

Jacob had been at Fulfilment Lodge long enough to know that all the residents needed special care in various ways, and he’d been with Charlie many times. This was the first time, however, that he’d not have someone like Russell to help him ‘talk’ to Charlie.

They marched along in the sunshine, Charlie enjoying the much brisker speed of walking with Jacob, holding his elbow, and bouncing his white stick along the pavement. It seemed a long way, but Charlie enjoyed the sunshine on his face, the slight wind in his hair, the various aromas, and the constant commentary with which Jacob told him about the sights.

“We’re nearly at the Pleasure Beach,” said Jacob. “Wow, the Big One certainly is big. Squeeze my hand if you’re sure you’re ready to do this.”

Charlie squeezed Jacob’s hand, and they joined the queue for the biggest ride in the park. They shuffled forward, Jacob exclaiming all the while about the size of the ride, and Charlie becoming increasingly excited with him. When Jacob finally got them to the front of the queue, they presented their tickets.

“Are you blind?” said the man. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” said Charlie, “my deaf friend is looking after me.”

“OK, if you’re sure,” and the man strapped them into the little car.

They took off, and we soon climbing to the top of the ride, high above the promenade. Charlie was very aware of the wind blowing and the long clackity climb to the summit, and gripped Jacob with one hand, and the handrail with the other.

“Here we go!” screamed Jacob as the plummeted down the first near-vertical hill. “Fucking hell, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“It’s brilliant,” said Charlie, “The best since I become blind. Let’s do it again.”

Altogether the pair rode the Big One three times, each time Jacob’s swearing getting louder and louder, and Charlie whooping for joy at the speed and freedom so rarely available to a blind man.

Charlie’s speaking watch told him that it was getting near to the time when they should be meeting Russell for lunch, so reluctantly he pulled at Jacob’s cuff, then touched Jacob’s lips. Jacob understood, and they walked up the promenade, slightly slower that they’d walked in the other direction.

Once installed in a café near the Tower, Charlie was bubbling with enthusiasm as he told Russell about the experience. Russell then wrote on Jacob’s i-pad, “It seems he liked it,” and Jacob nodded, “He certainly did, more than I expected.”

Johan had dragged himself halfway along the causeway, hoping for a reasonable gap in the beggars. He’d settled with his begging bowl, and was quietly watching the other beggars, as well as the throng of tourists. Making sure his shorts were pulled up to expose his amputation scars, and keeping his eyes to the ground, the jangle of coins soon started to pour into his bowl. He’d been there an hour or so, when a voice awoke him from his half-asleep slumber.

“Not seen you here before,” said the voice in clear English. “This is usually my spot.”

Johan looked up, startled. Another beggar had arrived very close to him and was settling himself beside Johan. The new beggar was very skinny and dirty, with only one arm and no legs. Johan stared at him.

“You’re new here aren’t you,” said the new beggar.

“You speak very good English,” said Johan.

“Because once upon a time, I lived in England,” said the man. “I’ve been here for about five years now. I chose to come and live here and become a beggar. I love it here. No responsibilities, no worries, just sunshine and I just chill out.”

“You’re English?” said Johan.

“Yup,” said the man, “once called Clive, and lived in Tunbridge Wells. Now called Raj. Hardly can remember that life in the UK now. Ran away from home when I was fifteen, hitched all the way to India, then got amputated in a back ally not far from here. Best decision I ever made, getting rid of my legs and arm. Love it here – except for the monsoon, which is a bit much, living soaking wet for a few weeks. Anyway, what about you? You’re too fat to have lived like this before? What’s going on with you?”

Johan held out his pale hand, “I’m Jo,” he said. “I’m doing this for ten days, just trying to experience what it’s like.”

“Ten days?” laughed Raj. “You’ll lose any idea of time, how long you’ve been here; I bet you’ll be here for much longer.”

“My boyfriend will come to collect me,” said Johan.

“If he’s still keen to find you,” said Raj. “He might not fancy a dirty beggar anymore, especially one with no legs.”

“He’s not got legs either,” said Johan. “We’re a couple of wheelchair users, back in England.”

There was a long pause, and the two amputees looked at one another.

“So, how’d’ you lose your legs then,” said Raj.

“Had them chopped off in Mexico,” said Johan. “My choice. So did my boyfriend, we went together.”

“Bugger me,” said Raj, “I thought us amps by choice were only here in India. In’ it great getting rid of your legs?”

“Not all these men are amps by choice, are they?” said Johan.

“No of course not,” said Raj. “In fact, there’s hardly anyone who got their amputations as adults. Most of these were kids, some even babies when they were mutilated. Parents didn’t want them, sold them to slave masters, who got them chopped so they’d make good money as beggars.”

When Russell, Charlie and Jacob came out of the café, there was a legless beggar sitting in a wheelchair just beside the door.

“Spare any change?” said the beggar.

Russell explained to Charlie, and the three of them all gave money to the beggar. “I wonder how Johan and Stefan are getting on. I think they’re in San Francisco by now.”

In Mumbai, Raj looked long and hard at Johan. “Do you know where you’ll sleep tonight?” he said.

“No,” said Johan. “I’m just going to follow the crowd when the tide starts to rise over the causeway.”

Raj laughed. “God, you’re so green. Put your head down and make sure they all see your scars, then at the end of the day I’ll take you to the money lender, and then to get some supper. I sleep under the highway ramp, and you can come with me. But you must look out for yourself, I’m not looking after you.”

“Thanks, Raj.”

“Don’t mention it, Jo. I’ll find a way for you to repay me.”

“I’ve booked for us to go to a theatre tomorrow,” said Russell. “It’s a variety show, so it might be very corny.”

“That’s OK,” said Charlie. “I like corny, as it’s easier for me to imagine what it looks like.”

After he’d read the message on his i-pad, Jacob said, “Great, I’ll be pleased if it’s as good as the Elvis man we saw. What about tonight?”

“I’ve had a look, and it’s not too far to walk to the Flying Handbag. I think we’ll like it, and we can have supper there.”

Johan’s supper was a big dollop of sticky rice containing various bits and pieces he couldn’t identify. “It’s all veggie,” said Raj, “you’ll get used to it. It varies slightly from day to day, but it’s always much the same.” They ate with their fingers just beside the street seller, as neither of them could move and carry a bowl of food at the same time.

Charlie was pleased that the food at the Flying Handbag was several varieties of ‘Chicken-in-the-basket’, as he could eat with his fingers, always easier for a blind man.

Jo and Raj settled for the night on a pile of stinking rags. “Come closer, you strange Englishman,” said Raj. “It’s not very often I get to feel someone with actual flesh on their body. You don’t have to be gay here in Mumbai, all men make the most of touching and feeling one another. It helps keep warm on a cool night.”

The drag queen at the Flying Handbag sidled up to Charlie. “I’m Amber,” she purred, “I think blind men are very sexy. Do you want to feel me?”

Charlie stuttered, “I don’t know.”

Russell encouraged him. “You’re the lucky one Charlie, make the most of it. You’ve got a gorgeous drag queen in your arms.”

“Charlie?” said Amber, “You can put your hands anywhere you like. Make the most of touching and feeling.”

Charlie felt the drag queen’s breasts. “You’ve got real breasts,” said Charlie. “I’ve never felt any breasts before. I’m a gay man, and I don’t get to feel breasts.”

“Have a good feel,” said Amber. “And let your hands wander. It’s what I’m here for.”

Charlie took amber at her word and felt all over the slim torso. “I thought drag queens were blokes,” he said, “but you feel like a girl.”

“Keep exploring,” said Amber.

“Oh shit,” said Charlie, “you’ve got a huge prick. Tits and a prick!”

“Aren’t I a lucky girl!” said Amber.

As they lay in the dirt, three arms and no legs, Johan spoke quietly to Raj, “Thanks mate: I was crazy to think I could do this on my own. I’m very lucky you came and found me on the causeway.” He felt down into the pile of rags. “You’ve got a huge prick.”

“Yep, I’ve got a big one, aren’t I lucky? And that’s how you can repay me,” said Raj. “Get down there and suck it hard. No-one’s sucked me off for ages.”

Johan struggle to find Raj’s cock in the muddle of rags and breathed hard in the stink of Raj’s unwashed crotch. It was very different from the clean and elegant love-making he and Stefan enjoyed in hotels like the Taj. He was, however, very grateful to the beggar, and worked hard to give him a long, slow blow job. After a while, Raj exploded in Johan’s mouth, and Johan greedily swallowed the mouthful of sweet cum.

The extra-large king bed at the Grand had rarely seen such energetic lovemaking as the three men enjoyed during their time in Blackpool, and by the third day, they all needed to sleep late to catch up with the sleep that they’d not had in the night.

“I don’t think I can make it to breakfast,” said Jacob.

Russell nodded. “Back to sleep boys,” he said. “Charlie, when your watch says it’s noon, we might get up!”

The three slept on. Charlie woke and touched his talking clock. “One o’clock PM,” said the watch.

“Crikey,” said Charlie, “it’s one o’clock.”

“I’m awake,” said Russell, but we’ll have to wake Jacob. He won’t have heard your watch.”

They shook Jacob awake. “Time for lunch,” wrote Russell on the i-pad, and sleepily the three stood in the shower together. All three got erections, but Jacob said, “No, not now. I’m hungry.”

“Do you ever wash?” said Johan as he and Raj started to wake.

“Never,” said Raj, “that’s part of what I like being here. I was treated so bad as a kid, it was all carbolic soap. One of the punishments was being beaten with a scrubbing brush. Once I ran away, I vowed never to wash again, and I don’t. Of course, when the monsoon comes we all get very wet and a lot of the dirt washes off, but that’s different.” There was a pause. “Suck me again, it was so good last night.” And there in the rags and dirt under the highway, in broad daylight and the warmth of the rising sun, Johan sucked off his friend again. He could hear quite a lot of whistling going on, and when he finally lifted his head, there were several of the beggars watching, and getting out their cocks to be sucked. “No,” shouted Raj in Marathi, “he’s mine. Fuck off!”

Raj led the way out of the piles of rags and towards the causeway. Johan watched closely how Raj moved dragging his torso along with his one arm. “Christ,” though Johan, “that’s so sexy. I wonder if I might get my left arm taken off?”

They made their slow way towards the causeway. Johan had no idea what the time was, but knew it was early. The causeway was quiet. The tourists were all in their hotels having their grand breakfasts. It was clear to Johan that there would be no breakfast for him.

Russell, Charlie and Jacob loved Blackpool. They enjoyed the down-market entertainments, and the greasy café meals; they loved the Tower Circus, and went together to the top of the tower. From the top of the Tower, Jacob was keen to point to the Big One at the Pleasure Beach.

“Rather you than me,” said Russell.

“I loved it,” said Charlie.

“I bet you would not have been so keen if you could see what you were doing,” said Russell.

“Perhaps,” said Charlie, “but I really did love it. All that feeling of speed and for me a kind of freedom. I know it’s mad, but for a blind man, it’s terrific.”

When it was time to go home, they trudged their way back to the station. Jacob said, “Where next?” They looked at him and shrugged.

“Will anywhere be as good as Blackpool?” said Russell.

Johan was fearful that he’d lose track of the days and not know when the time would come to meet Stefan with the hotel van and return to his regular life. He felt as though he was meditating during each day, and the nights passed in a blur of the bowlfuls of messy rice, sucking Raj’s cock and fitful sleeping on the ground. One day he said to Raj, “I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I’m supposed to meet my partner after ten days, but I don’t know if its ten days or not.”

“I told you that you’d lose the sense of time,” said Raj. “I’m guessing that I’ve been here five years, but that’s only because I’ve survived five monsoons.”

Speaking quietly, Johan told Raj the story of the Fulfilment Lodge, and how he and Stefan had come to live there. He described the Spa that they’d built, and the other disabilities that the residents had inflicted upon themselves. He especially talked about Mike in his iron lung, and Charlie who had made himself blind.

“You know,” said Raj one day, “your Fulfilment Lodge sounds like a good community, rather like the community we have here, but much cleaner!”

Johan nodded. “In a way, you’re more accurate than you can imagine.”

“I expect I’d like it at your Lodge,” said Raj, “but it will never happen.”

A few days more slipped by, with Johan increasingly worried that the ten days had passed, although he continued to enjoy the meditative state he found himself in most of the day. He even longed for the pungent smell of Raj’s crotch, where he had taken to sleeping most nights.

Suddenly he was awakened from his stupor. “There you are,” came Stefan’s voice. “I’ve been worried about you.”

Johan jerked up, fully awake. “Stefan,” he said. “I didn’t know it’s ten days already.”

“It’s not,” said Stefan. “It’s twelve. I’ve been worried sick. Are you OK? Let’s get you back to the hotel.”

Behind Stefan stood two burly security men from the hotel.

“Pick him up,” said Stefan. “Gosh, he stinks!”

“Wait,” said Johan. “Give me some money, all you’ve got, and a note giving the Lodge address.” Taking it from Stefan, he pressed the unfamiliar notes and the crumpled message into Raj’s single hand. “Farewell my good friend. Good luck and thank you.”

A tear crept out of Raj’s eye. “I’ll miss you.”

Johan leaned very close to Raj and whispered something and gave his begging bowl to him. The security guards picked up Johan and the stronger of the two cradled him in his arms. Stefan followed as they made their way to the hotel’s van. “I don’t know what the hotel will think,” said Stefan, “but we’ll get you into the shower as soon as we can.”

Johan lay back in the security man’s embrace, strangely subdued and pensive. Once they’d smuggled him back into the hotel via a staff entrance, Stefan stripped his lover and put his rags into a bag for disposal. They sat together on the floor of the shower, and Stefan lovingly washed and shaved his filthy lover.

“I love you,” said Stefan, “but you worried me in these last two weeks. I was worried that I might lose you.”

“Yes,” said Johan slowly, “you might have done. I’d still be there now if you hadn’t come to look for me.  I feel as though I’ve been on some kind of religious retreat – it’s hard to describe.”

“That was a lot of money,” said Stefan. “Several hundred rupee.”

“Thank you, “said Johan. “That’s just what I wanted for him.”

“What did you whisper to him?” said Stefan. “You obviously made friends with him.”

Johan smiled. “He was a very good friend.”

“So what did you whisper?”

“I told him that I’ve decided to have my left arm taken off, so that I can be like him. It’s a way of remembering him and fulfilling my own destiny.”

“You must think about it very carefully and see if you feel the same when we’re back home,” said Stefan. “You must wait a while, but if you still feel the same when you’ve properly recovered from this experience, I won’t stop you.”

Russell, Charlie and Jacob were taking their time to walk across the platform at Waterloo. “We’re early for the train,” said Russell, “let’s go to that coffee shop on the balcony and get a snack.”

As they came out of the lift onto the balcony, Jacob let out a huge scream. “Stefan and Johan, what are doing here!”

The two wheelchairs turned to see their friends rushing towards them. Everyone else in the coffee shop turned in amazement at the noise and excitement. “We’re on our way home,” said Stefan.

“How was San Francisco?” said Russell.

“We didn’t go there,” said Stefan. “It’s a long story.”

“Wow,” said Charlie, “what’s the chances of meeting like this?”

“It’s a miracle, “said Jacob, jumping up and down, “that’s what it is, a miracle.”

“Let’s go and get our train,” said Johan, “and then you can start to tell the stories.”

Jacob looked from one to another of his friends. Although he did not know what they were saying, he was as delighted as the others and danced a funny little dance with Charlie.

Once they were all loaded into the first-class carriage, the noise of excited voices was unchecked. When the steward arrived with the refreshment trolley, Stefan ordered champagne and invited the other bemused passengers in the carriage to join. By Bournemouth most of the others had got out, and the five over-excited friends continued on their merry way to Wareham.

It took three taxis to convey them all to Fulfilment Lodge. Richard happened to glance out of the window at the exact moment that the procession appeared down the drive.

“What the?” he spluttered. “Valentine, quick look, what’s going on?”

The taxis halted on the wide sweep of the drive and the travellers emerged. Richard opened the big front door, and roared, “Welcome home! How the hell did you all manage to come together?”

A large skinny dog flew out of the door and ran in circles around the group.

“Who’s this?” said Russell.

“That’s Molly,” said Richard, “Valentine and I adopted her. She’s only been here a week; she came from Battersea; she’s lovely.”

“And sleeps between us on our bed,” said Valentine.

By this time Tony and Simon, the Siamese twins, had appeared on the doorstep, and Warren had come running from the Spa with Craig in his wheelchair, closely followed by Roy being pushed by David, whose slave chains rattled and clashed as he tried to hurry.

Sam ran to Mike. “They’ve all arrived home at the same time,” said Sam. “Boy, are you going to hear a lot of stories now.”

Molly, the newly arrived dog, could hardly believe that her world contained so many exciting people, and she continued to rush in circles around the crowd, barking joyously.

Valentine said, “She’s never barked like that before. In fact, she’s hardly barked at all.”

“She’s lovely,” said Richard again. “We’re already in love with her, and she’s only been here a week.”

“I’m sure we’ll all love her,” said Johan “and she can sleep on my bed anytime.”

Valentine turned to his lover. “Richard,” he said, “I think we’d better get in the kitchen. We must have a great feast to welcome everyone home, and we can’t expect Russell to start cooking as soon as he’s arrived. It’s so good to have everyone back together.”

 

– – – o o o – – –