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Old 09-29-2011, 09:44 PM   #1
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Stories For Boys (Chapter 4)

Title: Stories For Boys
Authors: wo_speaking & allatonce10 (Love & Logic)
Rating: PG
A/N: Audrey & Edge both have something to teach...


“I can’t believe you dragged me along for this,” Edge pouted, eyebrows stitched, forehead scrunched. “I could be home playing my guitar or something.”

“Don’t be such a fuckin’ eejit. It’s just for a few hours.”

“Eejit? HOURS? Aw, man! It’s not my fault you’re failing Gaelic! Can’t I just walk you to the door or something?”

“No! You’re coming and that’s that. Besides, look, we’re already here.”

Approaching a decent sized house with red shutters and an oak door, Edge and I halted on a brown mat in front of the door, white, cursive letters drawing out the word “Welcome.” I shuffled, my heart practically pounding up through my throat.

“Pull yourself together, man!” Edge proclaimed, slapping my back in an assuring manner. “It’s not like you’re asking the poor girl out on a date. It’s just a study hour. Now, ring the bleedin’ doorbell, already!”

I didn’t realize how horribly I was shaking until I went to push the button. Edge was right! Pull yourself together, Bono! This isn’t you. What are you doing being all nervous and acting like a damned fool over some girl? You’re Bono Vox: cunning, sophisticated, popular. Girls have gone out of their way to get you to notice them. Well…almost every girl.

“Oh for Christ’s sakes!” Edge sighed, leaning forward, his arm and finger outstretched.

I went to stop him. “No!”

But it was too late. Before I could even graze his sweater, a familiar ding-dong of greeting informed the residents that someone was waiting outside for them. Damn Edge and his impatience…

“There. Can I go now?”

I stomped on his foot, my friend responding with a hiss and curse. “No! I will take you out for ice cream.”

“I’m not five, Bono.”

Continuing to bicker, someone opened the front door, causing Edge and I to straighten out our sweaters, padding the fabric down, facing our greeter and grinning stupidly, I’m sure.

Our jaws dropped at the woman who greeted us. Only that shade of red hair could belong to—

“Miss O’Neill,” Stuttering, I shifted from one foot to another. “What…what are you doing here?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “I live here.”

“…oh. Well, yes, of course. Silly of me. Is…er…”

“Yes, Audrey is here. She’s in the study. Second door to your left.”

Nodding, I turned to Edge, who was a frozen statue of teenage marble and…gawking? No. Not Edge. He wasn’t actually gawking at our music teacher. I was imagining things. Or was I? He had a crush on her all right, and bad. I’d never seen him look at a woman like that before – she had to notice it. I’m sure she did ... she seemed rather transfixed on Edge, her fiery eyes narrowed at the sixteen year old as if he were an exquisite piece of art that needed inspection. I couldn’t believe it. There was just something about these O’Neill women and their gazes…

“Edge, I’m sorry I dragged you along. You can go home.”

“Erm…right.” He nodded, clearing his throat, mumbling under his breath. “I’ll…just…be going.”

“Nonsense,” Miss O’Neill protested, waving her hand in a welcoming gesture. “David is more than welcome to wait for you. I just finished baking some delicious soda bread and I’m just dying to have someone try it!”

“Uh…ok. I suppose I can try it ...” Edge smiled, his eyes never once leaving the ground, his cheeks flushed to a scarlet hue on his ivory face.

I gave Edge a wink as Miss O’Neill turned and walked to the kitchen.

“Come on in, lads,” she said, “make yourself at home. Come on, David. Don’t be shy, come on in ...”

I practically had to shove him into the sitting room. I think he was actually shaking when I left him.

Walking into Miss O’ Neill’s house was just like walking into anyone else’s. Walking in through the front door, the living area greeted me, its walls cream and decorated with random paintings, family photos and vases of flowers. It was a cozy house, quiet aside from a small fire crackling in the white fireplace, its heat radiating even from a few yards away. There was a red settee beside it and tan curtains hung from the two windows: one on the left and another on the right corners of the room. The floors were mostly hardwood and covered by a pink, white, brown and green floral area rugs.

The kitchen must have been to the right, I imagine. Miss O’ Neill didn’t take me that far because to the left of me was a wooden door leading to the study. I knocked on the door softly, waiting impatiently for a response. When I didn’t get one, I pushed the door softly and found Audrey in the study, sitting at an oak round desk, her forehead rested in an open hand, her elbow on the table, eyes drifting across pages of an open book. She was humming lightly to classical music playing in the background from a radio in the far corner of the room. Even this room was similar to that of the main-the floors of wood and windows covered by tan curtains.

Ideally, I should have made my presence known somehow or another. Nonetheless, I simply stood there, planted where my feet kept me in the doorframe, soaking in the mystery that was Audrey. I was dazzled by the way her dark brown hair curled about her face, framing the curves of her jaw line. She breathed lightly, her bosom rising and falling steadily, drawing me in like a gypsy’s dance.

Abruptly, she looked up, eyeing me over long, feathery lashes. She turned a soft shade of crimson, placed a mark in her book and shut it, not saying a word. Was she waiting for me to speak?

“Hey,” I greeted, giving her a little wave.

“Hello. I didn’t think you would actually show up.” She said briskly, reaching into her bag and pulling out a textbook with a cover I knew all too well.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

She shrugged. “Well, this is your, what, third year taking Gaelic?”

Chuckling, I added, countering, “That could, just perhaps, be a reason why I’m here. Men are not good with letting down their pride but I have to admit…”

“You’re terrible at Gaelic.” She finished.


Audrey giggled and patted the empty seat next to her. Whether it was intentional or not, our chairs were fairly spaced just enough so that no part of our bodies were touching. Thought that scent…that scent haunted me even when she wasn’t around. Vanilla. Clover. Honey. And something indefinitely unique.
Unzipping my carrier to retrieve my textbook, I fumbled nervously and had to stop and remind myself to breathe. Collecting my composure, I opened up to the page that Audrey had opened to.

“So…where should we begin…” She trailed, speaking more to herself than to me.

Wow, let’s just get right to the point, eh?

“We don’t have any homework in this class due for tomorrow so we don’t really have to worry about that…Ah, fuck it!” She said annoyingly, taking both our books and throwing them to the side of the table, landing in a loud thump.

From a seventeen year old perspective, I had expected her to take me right then and there, More than anything did I want her to toss those damned, pointless texts to the side and slam my body up against that table, to study me like she did the pages of a book. To undress me, sensually, piece by piece. To ravish me like we were the last two people on earth.

“Bono,” Audrey’s voice echoed throughout my sexual fantasies. “BONO!”


“Just making sure you’re still here.” She laughed.

“Oh..,yeah, sorry, got a bit…sidetracked. What were you saying?”

“Boys…they’re same no matter where I go. I was saying that we can’t learn anything, especially another language, from text books. So, we’ll learn how I did. Let’s start with the basics.”

She took out a piece of line paper and wrote down: Cad is ainm duit?

“Do you have any clue as to what that says?”

“Not a damned.”

She smiled. “I figured as much. It says, ‘What is your name?’ Here, I’ll break it up for you,
cad is pronounced ‘coad.’ Ok? ‘coad… iis… annim… dwit.’”

“Coad iis anum-”

“Annim.” She corrected patiently.

“Annim dwit.”

“Good,” Audrey nodded. “Now say it all in one motion.
Cad is ainm duit?”

Struggling, I pushed on for the sanity of myself. During this moment did I realize how big of a mistake this was. Bono Vox, lead singer of The Hype, spied upon by girls during band practice, was afraid of making a fool of himself in front of Audrey O’Neill. Damn it, where is Edge? He was supposed to be my scapegoat!

“Hey, it’s alright,” She soothed, acting as if she could read my very inner struggle. “It’s hard learning another language. My parents were strict on me to learn Gaelic and that’s why I speak it so well. But I started learning when I was five. And you’re seventeen, so I can only imagine how difficult it is. Just concentrate.”

“Five? That early? Why was it so important for you to learn it if you grew up in America? Your sister speaks English very well so I’m sure it’s not to conv-”

“Oh, shit.”


Shaking her head and leaning back in her seat, she laughed sarcastically. “I’m so stupid.”

“What are you talking about?”

She shot me a daggering look that could have stabbed right into my soul. “You’re not here to learn Gaelic. You’re here to get to know me.”

I cocked my head to the side. “What if I said yes? Would that be such a horrible thing?”

“Yes! We’re here to make sure that you pass Gaelic, which is a required class to get into any college in Ireland! You are aware of that little factor, right?”

“Well.¬¬..Yes…I…You’re mad at me?”

Taken by my question, Audrey shifted from me, to the table and back. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I waited anxiously for her to respond. Once again, why did I care so damned much? It shouldn’t matter what she thinks! It shouldn’t matter if she’s mad at me or not. It wouldn’t be hard to collect my things and drag both me and Edge out of this house without a second glance.

Yet…if it were that easy, why haven’t I done it already?

“No,” She answered. “Actually…this is good.”


“I’ll make you a deal,” She said, leaning in towards me. “I’ll answer any questions you want to know about me. But! You have to say them in Gaelic. Deal?”

Clever, clever girl! She was just as convening as me!

“Deal.Cad… is… ainm…er…”

“Duit.” She finished in a paced whisper.

“ Cad is ainm duit?”

“Good. Dia duit, Bono, Audrey O’Neill is ainm dom.”

Shit. I’m fucked…

* * * * *

I sat in the study, listening to the sound of the grandfather clock ticking as I put my hands on my knees, trying to stop my legs from trembling. I was in her house. Her house. It seemed like forever that she was banging about in the kitchen, the homey smell of soda bread wafting from the room as I watched her figure pass back and forth in the doorway, her slight frame covered by an apron and a dab of baking powder on her cheek.

“Almost ready, David, it’s just cooling, love,” she called out in that beautiful voice.

She just called me love ... she just called me ...

“Would you like some tea?” she asked, poking her head in the doorway. “Or something stronger? A Guinness, maybe?”

I didn’t drink – not yet at least – I tried a Guinness once at Gavin’s and I didn’t want to look like a prat, but I was dying to run to the sink and spit it out as soon as it passed through my lips.

“No, it’s all right Miss O’Neill; I’ll just have some tea. One milk, one sugar, please,” I replied politely.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you, David,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “Not into the alcohol yet, I see. That’s good – there’s plenty of time for that.”

She turned and walked back into the kitchen, her red hair falling against her shoulders and her hips swaying temptingly as she moved.

I nearly cringed when she’d called me a good boy – I much preferred when she called me love.

I sat patiently waiting for her to return, the clink of a spoon stirring my tea meshing with the clock as I tried not to be nosy and look around the room at her personal photos. There was one of a much younger version of her, holding her baby sister on the ferry in New York, the Statue Of Liberty on the horizon behind them. I’d always wanted to go to America – my parents had promised me we’d go after I graduated. I’d have to ask Miss O’Neill all about it – something we could talk about other than music, at least.

She stepped back into the room, tea in one hand and a plate of soda bread in the other, her apron removed. She set the tea next to me on the side table and the plate of soda bread in front of me. I felt awkward sitting here in her house in my tatty jeans and my Clash t-shirt ... I would have dressed nicer had I known I would end up in her company tonight.

“There you are, David. Eat. You’re such a skinny little thing, aren’t you,” she said softly, running her hand through my hair and if I wasn’t mistaken, keeping it there a little bit longer than she should have.

She sat in the chair next to the place on the settee I had chosen, her hair down against her shoulders when I was accustomed to seeing it up, and her doe eyes watching me carefully as I stole a bite of the soda bread. It was delicious, of course.

“Well, how is it?” she inquired, smiling a most attractive smile at me as I ate, trying my best to keep the crumbs to a minimum.

She was stunning. The firelight glowing from the hearth didn’t help – it suddenly was very hot in this room indeed.

“It’s ... it’s really good, Miss O’Neill. Really ... erm ... beautiful ...”

I couldn’t believe I just said that. I wasn’t talking about the soda bread, was I ...

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I grabbed my cup of tea, gulping it down very impolitely and burning my tongue in the process – anything to distract her from seeing me blush.

“David,” she said softly, leaning forward and giving me another sweet smile, “is the tea too hot?”

“It’s ... it’s fine ... it’s ... it’s good,” I stuttered, sounding like a complete plonker in her presence. I stuffed the last piece of soda bread in my mouth, willing the heat off my tongue but knowing I had to be red as a radish by now.

“Tell me about your band,” she said, changing the subject and trying to make me feel at ease. I was surprised she’d even heard of us, but she was the music teacher after all.

“Well, we’re called The Hype,” I told her, feeling a bit more comfortable now, talking about something I was familiar with and distracting me from focusing on the way her fingers curled around her teacup. “I play the guitar.”

“Yes, I know you do ... and you play it quite well, I understand. Maybe you can show me how sometime. I’m still trying to learn,” she giggled.

Teach her how to play guitar? We’d have to get really close for that ... and I’d have to touch her hands, show her where they go on the strings ...

“Um ... maybe I could sometime, yeah,” I grinned a bit, taking another sip of my tea as I imagined it, her knee alongside mine and my fingers over hers ...

“Maybe next week when Paul comes back for another tutoring session ... you can be my tutor,” she laughed softly. “Would you show me a few things, David?”

“Sure,” I said, not wanting to sound too anxious. “I’ll bring my guitar. It’s kind of crap though ... I need a new one.”

“It has six strings and it’s in tune, right? Then it’ll do,” she assured me, giving me another grin.

We spent the next while talking about New York and America, I told her how badly I wanted to go and she told me all about her numerous trips back over to see her mother and her sister, having decided to move back to Ireland with her father after their separation. I listened attentively as she told me about Audrey, ready to tell Bono everything I’d learned as soon as we had left.

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Old 10-02-2011, 07:38 PM   #2
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Lots of lurkers on this one.... what do you think?

Am I crossing a line here?

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Old 10-03-2011, 03:09 PM   #3
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This is really great I`ve read all 9(?) chapters from BDL and i think you should continue this
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stories for boys

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