1. Marbella

2. From Torremolinos to Churriana

3. Ben the Baker

4. After the Fashion Show

5. The Bronx

6. You are never too old to Learn

7. Peter from Poona

8. Rule Britannia

9. Sports and pastimes

10. The Constant Nymph

11. Ben rises to the Occasion



Highway Robbery

'God hates violence. He was ordained that all men Fairly possess their property, not seize it.'

The days were getting shorter and, like some migrating bird which had lost its inner calendar and consequently mistimed its homing instinct, I knew that I must head north, back to Amsterdam. The days and nights after our return from fiesta in ojen were fully occupied with frenzied preparations for our departure. There were so many things to do, both for Stephen and myself that we were too exhausted to hit the town and we passed out evenings at home. Until the last evening.

The last suitcase had been closed- and reopened three times as some forgotten item came to light, business letters had been signed, the had been serviced, housemaid and porter tipped. I felt that I badly needed a holiday.
'Xaviera, sweetheart,' Stephen's tone was apologetic , almost sheepish, 'we've been so cooped up in this flat that I've not had the chance to say goodbye to some of the The persian boy. How about our slipping out for a farewell drink?'

'Not me, darling. I've had it. you go if you want to, but remember that we want to make an early start tomorrow, so don't make a night of it, will you.'
'I'll be an hour, that's all. Or maybe two,' Stephen added, and with a reassuring smile and a quick kiss on my cheek, for all the world like a suburban husband running out of the local pub or neighborhood deli, he took his leave.

I noticed that Stephen had left his key to my car behind, (he had sol d his own), so I knew that he would not be going far but I decided not to wait up for him. He had his own key to the apartment and I had a long day's driving ahead of me the next day.

I was awakened by what at first sounded like a revolution breaking out just outside my front door. As I staggered out of bed, I realized that, in fact, somebody was knocking urgently and energetically. When I opened the knocking urgently and energetically. When I opened the door, there stood Jaime, a large, swarthy man from northern Spain who had opened a bar at the end of the the road to morocco. Jaime was supporting the limp form of Stephen who face was wreathed in a seraphic smile.

'Have to get back,' Stephen's voice was slurred but his tone was contented. 'got to start early Mustn't wake up Xaviera -' He gently lapsed into unconsciousness. Jamie picked up the little man and deposited him on his bed. I glanced at the clock. It was just before five o'clock.

'Thank you for seeing him home, Jaime.' It was chilly and I pulled my flimsy robe tighter around me. Jaime stared at me as it his eyes were fitted with X-rays. 'he had his keys in his pocket. You could have got him inside without knocking.'

But then I would not have seen you.' Jaime made it clear that he was in no hurry to depart and sat himself down on the sofa.
'Jaime, it's lovely to see you and you were very kind in looking after my bottled beau. But, as you heard, we are leaving early in the morning, in a couple of hours in fact. So please don't think me inhospitable if I don't invite you to stay.'

Jaime was unco-operative. 'You have never asked me home, Xaviera and now you are leaving Spain and heaven knows when he shall meet again. Business has been had and I may not be here when you come back next year. I'm thinking of selling the bar.'

'I'm sorry. I do hope that things get better for you.' And I moved towards the front door. Jaime continued to sit on the sofa.
'I am not leaving until you give me a proper farewell.' Jaime's obstinacy was evident in his voice and the truculent jut of his jaw. In case I was in any doubt of what he wanted, he unzipped his fly.

'Oh, no, Jaime, not now!'
'What's the matter, Xaviera? Have you become a prude?'
One look at the wolfish lustfulness in Jamie's eyes was enough to convince me that there was no way that I could be rid of his company except by fucking him. I was furious at Stephen. To think that I had to pay for the delivery of my bombed boy friend with my fanny! I was in a hurry to get what little rest was left for me that night, so I led the unappetizing specimen of male chauvnism into my bedroom. He wanted fucking: he would get it so fast and fierce that he would come before he realized what had struck him.

Jamie had no difficulty in getting an erection. His penis led the way into the bedroom but my body could raise no enthusiasm. I grabbed a bottle of body lotion and splashed it between my things and over Jamie's straining member. I rubbed it good and hard to hurry him on his way. He smelt of stale sweat and alcohol. Jamie must rank high among the world's most unromantic studs. I slithered him into me and bucked wildly. I could feel Jamie trying to hold back. Although he was not paying, he wanted his money's worth but I was ready for him. I gave him no respite and as he squirmed, I pressed a finger up his ass and squeezed the semen out of his prick.
'Wait' Jamie gasped weakly, his knees buckling,

'That's it,' I called, and before he could recover, I had pushed him off the bed, across the room and though the front door. He was still on the doorstep, getting his breath back when I opened the door again and thrust his trousers into his hand.

'Good night and goodbye.' I called and slammed the door.
Before going back to bed, I looked in at Stephen. He lay, crumpled on his bed, snorting noisily but with an expression as carefree as that of a new born babe. With difficulty, I resisted the temptation to pour a bucket of cold water over him and tell him just what I thought of him. the morning would exact his own revenge on the drunk, I mused.

The sun rose a couple of hours before I did and I scowled at its brightness. Having lecherous bar owners interrupting my sleep does not put me in the best of spirits next day. With grim determination I set about rousing Stephen from his coma. I think that Jesus had a somewhat easier task when he raised Lazarus from the dead, but I stuck at it and eventually my men of war had resumed a vertical sexual position and was helping to stow cases away in the car. He worked like an automation, his unfocussed eyes, parched lips and croaking voice were all calculated to increase drastically the premium on his life assurance.

'Do you feel as horrible as you look?' I asked.
By way of reply, Stephen tottered into the bathroom and was sick.
'What do you want for breakfast?' I called cheerfully.
Before we left, I had some orange juice, scrambled eggs and tea, Stephen had gazed unsympathetically at a piece of dry toast. However, as we drove, the breeze seemed to revive him and after about half an hour, it became apparent that he had survived. I stopped at Malaga to fill the car's tank and the
power complex of speech returned to my companion.

12. The Magician

13. Say it with Diamonds

14. The simple life

15. Forced to Fast

16. The Persian Boy

17. Penthouse Pet

18. The road to Morocco

19. Have you anything to Declare?

20. Men of War

21. Fiesta in Ojen

22. Highway Robbery