Рок Верхтер

Sander

Chapters 4-6

To make sure I wouldn't oversleep, I'd set the alarm at 7 am to give me enough time to get ready for what might become a very important day. I needn't have worried, though, because I was too worked up to really sleep much. It made me wonder how my little prince had gone through the night, with his try outs coming up. He'd been quite at ease when he'd left my home, though, the night before. I suppose I was making this a much bigger deal than he was.

Annie and I had agreed that I'd pick Sander up around 8 am, too make sure we wouldn't be late. Mark would be meeting us at the cafeteria so he could meet Sander before warmups and introduce him to the team he'd be playing with. In all the rush, I hadn't even asked Sander how he'd managed to keep his forthcoming transfer a secret from his coach. That'd be a little something to talk about during the ride there. I also had to make sure to find out what reason the reason had been for his to keep him out of the games.

At 7.15 I was eating some cereal for breakfast with a bit of music in the back, flipping through the sports pages of my newspaper, when the doorbell rang. I checked the clock, thinking I had kept my little friend waiting and then got up to answer the door. Still, when I opened the door, I was greeted by my favorite neighbors. With his grandmother in tow, Sander stood before me, dressed in the tracksuit he'd been wearing when we'd first met and a raincoat to cover from the drizzle outside, holding a yellow plastic folder in his hands. Annie was holding his sports bag in one hand, an umbrella in the other.

"Hi, there," I greeted them. "Am I late?"

"No, no," Annie quickly reassured me. "It's just that this little bundle of nerves couldn't wait to get going."

"I see," I nodded and then smiled down at a boy who indeed looked like an Energizer bunny on nuclear energy. "Better come in quickly, then."

"I'll leave Sander with you, Robert," Annie said. "I'm heading out for my tutoring job myself, in a bit."

"Oh, ok," I nodded again. "I guess we'll be seeing each other for lunch, then."

"Yes, that's right", Annie smiled. She handed me Sander's sports bag and then kneeled down in front of her grandson. "Good luck with your match, honey," she told the boy.

"Thanks, granny," Sander said, giving his grandmother a quick hug. "See you later."

"Okay, sweetie," she replied, kissing him on the cheek. "Love you!"

"Love you too," the boy smiled and then turned to me. "Can we go now?"

"Ho, ho, cold your horses, little man," I chuckled, his overload in energy already rubbing off on me. "Why don't you go inside, I'll be with you in a sec."

"Okay," he said, already heading for the living room. I turned to his grandmother and said: "I hope things will work out okay. I don't want to see him disappointed again."

"I worry about that, too, Robert," Annie admitted. "But I have good hopes."

"Yeah, so do I. Mark's a good guy, he'll give Sander the chance he deserves," I told Annie. "The rest is pretty much up to Sander."

"Exactly," Annie agreed. "Now, I'd better go and get ready, too, I've got one more student to tutor this morning."

"Okay. See you in a couple of hours," I said.

"Bye, Robert," she replied, turning around and walking off home.

I closed the door and went inside where I found Sander sitting in the couch, clutching the plastic folder. "A bit nervous, huh, buddy," I said as I dropped his sports bag next to him.

"A little," he admitted. "Sorry for being so early."

"That's okay, kiddo," I smiled and then pointed at the folder. "What's that?"

"Oh, that's the drawing for the room," he explained. "I finished it last night. Wanna see?"

"Sure," I nodded. "I'm gonna finish my breakfast. Why don't you come sit at the table with me and show me. And take your coat off for a bit, there's plenty of time left."

"Okay," Sander said, getting up and unzipping his raincoat, dropping it on the couch. He followed me into the kitchen where I sat down with the rest of my cereal. He stood beside me and laid the folder with the drawing before me.

"This looks amazing," I complemented the boy's work as I watched the drawing and read the added remarks.

"Do you really think so?" he asked, surprising me by sitting down on my knee.

Sensing his need for some cuddling, I wrapped my free arm around him and helped him all the way onto my lap. It was really a wonderful sensation to be so close to Sander and I was happy to see him being so at ease around me. It was clear that he craved for affection and I would never deny him that. We sat there like that for a while after I finished my breakfast, with him showing the finishing touches of his drawing and me simply listening to what he had to say, gently caressing his back. Unfortunately, the time to get going came closer fast.

"Ready to go, my little prince?" I asked, placing my hands on his hips.

He looked back at me over his shoulder and nodded, smiling brightly. Apparently the little chat about his room to be had calmed his nerves a bit. He hopped off my lap, turned around and gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek before retrieving his raincoat. I got up as well, put my empty bowl in the sink, ruffled Sander's hair a bit as I passed by him and picked up my shoes and jacket in the hallway. Sitting down on the couch to put my shoes on, I couldn't help but look up at him, standing there by his sports bag, patiently waiting for me to get ready and exploring the room with his eyes.

It was only when our eyes met that I realized I'd been staring at him, which I can only explain as a reminder of my physical attraction towards the boy and I knew pretty well it would always play its part. I already knew from first sight Sander was a handsome young boy, but getting to know him more closely had made him even more beautiful. Yeah, there was no doubt that I had falling head over heels with Sander. That was a feeling I would have to hide for him, but I understood that it wouldn't be easy. Luckily, my staring at him only provoked a happy smile with Sander, probably too young to comprehend the real reason. I quickly snapped out of my trance, smiled back and then speedily finished getting ready to go. A couple of minutes later Sander was in the backseat of my car with me driving him to an important football match.

Fifteen minutes later Sander and I found ourselves in the Racing Doomkapelle cafeteria, where we were to meet Mark. As we sat there at the bar, I had a cup of coffee, passing the biscuit to Sander who made it disappear within a split second. The boy was a bit anxious, hopping up and down on his tippy toes a bit, but we were a bit early, so I didn't panic. Only a sip or two of the hot and strong coffee later, Mark entered the building and greeted me with a smile. Another man who I did not know was with, as well as two kids about Sander's age, dressed in the colors of Racing: a tracksuit existing out of a dark, almost golden yellow jacket and purple pants.

"Good morning, Robert," Mark welcomed me to his territory. "Punctual as always, I see."

"Tardiness never makes for a good first impression, Mark, you know that," I laughed at his mockery and then turned to Sander, who looked even more nervous, if possible. I put my hand on the boy's shoulder and said: "This little fellow here made sure we got here on time."

Sander looked up when he realized I was talking about him and Mark turned to my little friend with a warm, welcoming smile on his face. "You must be our new team member," he said. "Sander, right?"

"Uhuh, yes, sir," the boy nodded, blushing a bit.

"Pleased to meet you, Sander," Mark said, offering his hand. "I'm Mark. I'll be your trainer at practice for the rest of this season and most likely the next season as well."

"Pleased to meet you too, sir," my little friend smiled, shaking the man's hand.

"Do call me Mark, kiddo, not sir," Mark chuckled in a friendly tone. "I'm not Alex Ferguson of Manchester United. Although kids usually call me 'coach'."

"Okay, errr, coach," Sander nodded, giggling at the man's funny disposition.

"See, that's not too hard, it is," Mark smiled. He gently pulled the boy forward towards the other man and the boys who were with him. "For this match, though, this guy here will be your coach. His mother called him Daniel, we call him Big Dan."

"My mother called me lots of things, Mark," the man chuckled, his belly shaking.

Big Dan was a guy in his early fifties with a thinning hair line and a mustache the size of a jungle and a belly as big as tank. Add a beard to his face, put him in a red costume and stick a bell in his hand and he'll be 'ho-ho-ho-ing' with much gusto. The big rosy cheeks and the warm, grandfatherly looks would even have him mistaken for the real Father Christmas.

"Hello, there, Sander," he smiled kindly, his voice booming like the Big Ben. "I hear you're here to help us win this game."

"He he, I hope so," Sander giggled nervously. "I'll do my best."

"That's all we ask of you, Sander," Mark nodded reassuringly. "And these two little rascals are your team mates for today, along with the ones that are already in the locker room. Simon! Ben! Why don't you two show Sander the way!"

"Okay," the boys answered in choir, the smallest of the two already grabbing Sander by the hand.

Sander barely had time to pick up his sports bag as the two other kids escorted him out. Passing the window he looked inside at me, still nervous. I just waved and then gave him a thumbs up, hoping that it would give him at least some confidence. This was starting to look like a crash course and I couldn't help but worry if he'd be okay.

"Don't worry, Robert," Mark reassured me as he spotted my worried looks. "He's in good hands. They're a good bunch. They knew there'd be a new kid with us, today, so they were just as anxious about meeting him as Sander was."

"Good kids they may be, Mark," Big Dan interfered. "But rascals nonetheless. I'd better go make sure they don't tear the place apart."

"Okay, Dan," Mark laughed. "Make sure to stick to the plan."

"The plan? What was that all about?" I wondered.

"Oh, right," Mark said, turning serious. "I told Daniel a bit about Sander and what he went through. I felt that he needed to know. I hope that was okay."

"That's okay, I guess," I shrugged, not knowing where this was heading. "As long as Sander's history doesn't influence his chances or anything."

"No, no, not at all," Mark reassured me. "No one in our teams is left out, ever. But with the special circumstances, Sander's old team being today's opponents, I thought it best that Dan knew where his new player came from."

"Oh, I see," I nodded. "But what's this plan you're talking about?"

"Nothing too big, don't you worry," Mark smiled, grabbing my shoulder in a friendly grip. "Big Dan and I agreed to keep Sander hidden from Rood-Zwart and let him pop up like a jack-in-a-box."

"Hidden? How?" I wanted to know.

"By a simple big woolen hat, so they won't recognize him during warmups," Mark explained. "That is, if Sander agrees with it. The other boys know about it too and they always stand up for their team mates, even if they haven't met yet."

"Well, Sander's not one to hold a grudge for too long," I said, scratching the back of my head in thought. "But he might actually go along with a plan like that and it might even motivate him to show his former coach what he's got."

"That's what we thought as well," Mark agreed. "He seems like a swell kid, he deserves a break."

"Yeah, he is and he does," I nodded. "Thanks again for giving his this chance."

"Don't mention it, Robert," he said in a friendly tone. "They should be ready for warmups, now. I'm gonna go check on your little friend, see how he's adapting."

"Okay," I said. "I'll see you on the field, then."

"Sure thing! See you in a bit," Mark almost shouted as he exited the cafeteria. Just in time, too, because a few seconds later, a hoard of parents and kids arrived on the premises, the kids mostly dressed in red and black.

With almost half an hour to go before the kickoff, I decided to mingle with the Rood-Zwart gathering and to try and find out if someone knew a reason for Sander's dishonest treatment. I ordered a fresh cup of coffee, this time putting the biscuit in my pocket and waited for the kids to go to their locker rooms before walking over to the group. I recognized the man I'd spoken to the week before and chose him to say hello to.

"Hi," I said a bit meekly. I was new to this, after all.

"Oh, it's Sander's neighbor," the man greeted me cheerfully. "Wait, I thought Sander wasn't playing today? He wasn't there earlier."

"He wasn't?" I feigned surprise. "Something must have come up at the last minute, then. His grandmother had asked me to pick him up afterwards, so I thought, why not go and watch him play."

A woman sitting across from me had overheard us and said: "After practice, last Wednesday, Sander said he had to go visit an aunt or something, so he couldn't come."

"I see," I nodded understandingly. "She must have forgotten about asking me to pick him up, then."

"Probably," the woman agreed.

"Oh, well, not a problem," I shrugged. "It's not the end of the world, ey. Do you mind if I stick around and watch the game?"

"Not at all," another woman said cheerfully, also listening in on our conversation. "The team needs every support they can get."

Aha, here's where I can start with my inquiry. "So I've heard. He told me something about the team being a bit down on their luck," I said, pointing at the man I'd talked to the week before.

"There's an understatement if I ever heard one," the man laughed out loud. "The kids can't hear us, so we can say it out loud: they stink!"

"That bad, huh?" I said, showing some compassion. That wasn't even an act, I felt a bit sorry for the boys. "Not one who can make a difference?"

"Well, as I said before, there is one: Sander," the man said. "But you know what the story is there."

"Only part of it, actually," I confirmed. "I already know he doesn't get to play. But he never told me why. What's the boy done to be left out all season?"

The entire group turned to each other and all seemed to be in the dark about the matter. Until an older man, probably someone's grandfather, sighed and said: "He actually did play once, at a tournament before the start of this season."

"Really? Sander never mentioned that," I said, now very curious. "Did he do that badly, then?"

"On the contrary," the man rejected. "They got into the final of that tournament and won. I believe Sander even scored the winning goal."

"That's right," the woman next to me remembered. "That was at Ichtemark. But Sander hasn't played since."

"Then what happened?" I asked, a bit furious. "I know Sander well enough that he wouldn't do anything bad enough to deserve this."

The old man sighed again and said: "I remember how the coach acted after that tournament. He was edgy the whole time and I think he might have had a drink or two too many. But I didn't make much of it at the time."

"I understand," I sighed. "I'd still like to know, though, but I don't believe asking the coach is a good idea."

"No, it isn't," they all seemed to agree.

"I'll talk to Sander about this again, some day," I told them. "I don't want things to carry on like this."

"Let's hope it doesn't," one of the parents agreed. "We'd better go see how many goals they take this time, huh."

Laughing they all got up and headed for the exit. Not having the information I wanted, I sighed and got up as well, following them outside. This is where my sheep's skin was starting to wear thin. In a few more minutes, I would become the wolf, ready to hunt down the alpha male of this flock.

On the field we all lined up at the sideline. The kids of both teams were going through their warmup routines, with the team of Racing looking a lot sharper than their opponents. I didn't spot Sander with Racing, right away, but then remembered the big hat, which sat on one of the boys in yellow and purple. I'd strategically decided to stand at the end of the line of these parents, not knowing how well these sheep would like the presence of a wolf. Still, I wanted to be close to them to see their reaction. Unfortunately, Rood-Zwart's coach spotted me as well.

"If you're here to take Sander home at half time again, you can spare the effort," he shouted at me from a distance, the mockery in his voice all but concealed. "He's visiting his aunt in Antwerp."

"I already know that," I replied, holding back my anger. "These kind people invited me to come support the team."

"Support? From you? You know how the game works, don't you?" he carried on.

"Sure," I nodded. "The team scoring most goals wins. If I remember correctly, you weren't doing too well with that last week."

Steam came out of the man's ears, now. "Alright then, stay. See if I care," he yelled, turning around. 1-0 to me, I thought.

"Not planning to make friends with the coach, are you," the older man who'd mentioned Sander's tournament earlier said.

"I'm not usually like this," I confessed.

"No, I don't think you are," the man smile kindly. "But just to be on the safe side, try not to get him too pissed."

"I'll do my best," I promised.

A few minutes later, the referee blew is whistle and the starting players of the two teams stripped off their tracksuits and headed for their positions. Racing's outfit was all yellow with only a two purple horizontal lines on the front of their jersey. Sander was standing next to Big Dan, wearing a big smile and the big black woolen hat to cover his ears for warmth and his blonde hair to conceal his true identity. A wolf cub in a lambs skin, if you like.

After the toss, the ref blew the whistle again and they were off. Rood-Zwart had been awarded the kickoff, but didn't keep possession of the ball for too long. Even thought they tried their best, it was plain to see that this would be another one side match. I didn't mind that, at least Sander would be on the winning team, this team. I just wanted him to have a considerable part in the victory.

I needn't have worried. The game was only five minutes away when Big Dan beckoned Sander to come stand beside him. They chatted a bit, with Big Dan giving instructions and at the next whistle of the referee, the man called Simon, one of the two boys who'd taken Sander off to the locker rooms, off the pitch and sent in Sander. Sander yanked off his hat, threw it at the coach and darted off to his position, which at first sight appeared to be left center.

'Gasp! Psych! Whatta…' Those were only a few of the reactions of my fellow supporters. They couldn't believe their eyes when they saw Sander on the field, in yellow, looking thrilled to finally get his first minutes of match time. The old man next to me then turned to me with a look I can only describe as 'we've been had'.

"You knew about this, didn't you," he simply said.

"Yep," I confessed. "He might not have told me much about what's been going on, but I knew I had to do something."

"So you transferred him to the other team of this town," he concluded.

"That was the best option for him," I told them, wanting to be honest with these people. It wasn't their fault, after all, at least not completely. "One of their coaches is a colleague of mine, so I asked them if he could play in their team instead. He agreed and now Sander's out there, on the field, where he should be."

The old man nodded understandingly, but looked a bit worried. "Our coach won't like this."

"I don't care about him," I shrugged. "I'd better go and make a move myself, now. Good luck with the match."

"Traitor," the old man grunted between his teeth as I walked over to the other side of the field.

There I found Mark with the parents of the boys Sander was playing with. He smiled triumphantly at me, knowing that the plan had come together. I returned the smile, stood beside Mark and then focussed on my little football star. I didn't know much about football, but what I saw from Sander wasn't bad. Not bad at all.

Sander was a lefty so felt perfectly at ease in his current position. It took him a while to get a feel of how the other kids in his team played, but after a couple of minutes, he blended in nicely. He was quickly included in the game, receiving passes when he was open. The score was still 0-0 after ten minutes, mostly because Racing had been a bit unfortunate in the finishing. Then, Sander ran into the open space before him, looking at Simon, who was now a center forward, and asking for the ball. Simon passed the pall into Sander's run who picked it up and dribbled towards the goal line with his direct opponent tailing him. At the goal line, Sander sent his opponent flying with an excellently executed chop kick. He briefly glanced up looking for a team mate who was open, passed the ball to Racing's forward who launched it past Rood-Zwart's goalie and into the back of the net. The lead for Racing was finally there, and Sander's quick action preceding the goal had not gone unnoticed with the two coaches present.

Big Dan looked at Mark and me briefly, nodding approvingly. I just smiled and then looked for Sander in the field who had obviously been doing the same. Our eyes met, he smiled brightly and I couldn't help but giving him two thumbs up. I was so proud of him I had to restrain myself from running up the field and giving him a big hug. It was Mark's comment that stopped me from making a fool out of myself.

"That was well done," Mark stated. "He thinks fast on the field and he's not selfish. He could have easily tried to score himself after that move, but he passed the ball to Christian instead and Christian rarely misses chances like that."

"Let's hope he keeps it up," I said. "I don't know much about football, but I can tell he knows what he's doing."

"Quite," Mark agreed. "Why he was left out of the matches is beyond me. It's definitely got nothing to do with a lack of skills."

"I still wonder about that, too, but I hope I'll find out, someday," I said. "I don't want Sander's transferring to Racing to cause any trouble for any of the other kids."

"Uhuh," Mark nodded, following the game with one eye. "Let's see how this game turns out first."

The game turned out fine. Five minutes after the first goal, Sander's was allowed a quick breather. During that break, Racing doubled the score with a well aimed free kick. After a five-minute break, Sander was sent back in, this time as a center, where he would be the team's play maker. Again, after a few moments to get adapted, he proved to be a quick thinker. Being wide open in the center, Sander received the ball from the kid racing down the right flank, immediately deflecting it back in the boy's run, who thanked him with a nice finish in the bottom left corner of the goal. Although the goal scorer was celebrated by all his team mates, they all congratulated Sander for the wonderful pass with a friendly pat on the shoulder.

By halftime Racing lead by 5-0, a score that wasn't even exaggerated. Rood-Zwart had pretty much thrown the towel in the ring after they conceded the first two goals. When the halftime whistle blew, Sander sprinted towards me with a happy smile. Of course he wanted me to tell him how good he was. It was Mark who spoke to him first.

"If you keep it up like that, you'll make it difficult for me to decide which of our teams you'll be playing in," Mark told him.

"Really?" Sander asked, not believing his ears.

"Yeah, sure," Mark confirmed. "You promised to do your best. I'm still wondering if this is your best."

"Dunno," Sander shrugged and then turned to me, looking a tad bit sad. "I still haven't scored for you yet."

"There's still time for that, Sander," I said. "And you have a foot in three of the five goals, so far. That counts just as well."

"He's right," Mark agreed with me. "Your friend might not know much about footy, but your teammates can't score goals if you don't give them the ball. You'll get your chances, trust me."

"Okay," Sander smiled. "But I have to score, I promised I would score goals for Robert."

"We're five goals up, now, Sander," Mark said. "The others already know they can count on you for a good assist, they won't hold it against you if you try to score yourself."

"Okay, I'll try," Sander nodded cheerfully.

"And hey, Sander," I said. "Even if you don't score, I've already got you your reward for doing so well, right here in my pocket."

"Really?" Sander asked, looking at where I was patting the outside of my pocket (the one holding that cookie).

"Yep, really," I smiled. "Now go get them, tiger."

And off he was, joining his teammates, sharing a bottle of fresh water to quench his thirst and listening in on Big Dan's tactical explanations. I briefly glanced at the other side, where the boys sat on the grass, looking down and defeated. Involuntarily, my eyes met with those of their coach, and I could tell from far that he was pissed. The parents of the Rood-Zwart boys were chattering amongst each other, often pointing at Sander or me. They didn't look too happy, either.

Sander started at the same center position at the beginning of the second half. Racing pretty soon got back into their rhythm and weren't really hindered much by their adversaries. At the eighth minute, Sander found himself as the most forward player of his team. There was a huge gap in Rood-Zwart's defense. He waved his arms to get the attention of the right center of his team, who quickly understood Sander's plan. The ball was sent into the gap with Sander speeding towards it, checking it with his left foot and heading for the opponent's goal with only the goalie in front of him. With a quick swipe of the left foot, only two feet away from the goalie, he passed the goalie and kicked the ball deep into the back of the net.

Celebrating his goal he jumped high into the air with his fists held high. Immediately, three of his team mates were on him, cheering for him and for their 6-0 lead. I could tell from miles away how important this goal really was for him. This was the ultimate proof that whatever reason his former coach had had to keep him out of the games, it was not because he wasn't good enough. This goal was the boost of confidence that Sander needed. The fact that he'd promised to score the goals for me made this moment even more wonderful. As Sander walked back to his position for the kickoff, he simply pointed at me, wearing the biggest smile. I again held two thumbs up, my eyes almost tearing up as I stood there proud as a peacock and as if he knew, Mark clapped me on the shoulder.

"That one's for you, Robert," Mark said.

I just nodded and smiled, knowing that I'll always cherish this moment. The rest of the match my focus wavered a bit. I'd been so worried about Sander, but he was more than doing great. He clearly had fun out there and obviously, his new teammates recognized that he would be a good addition to their team, which was already quite good. It made me wonder how good the boys playing in the national division were and how far Sander's skills were from theirs. We'd find out soon enough, I suppose.

Seeing Sander being so happy out there on the field allowed me to enjoy watching him play and I caught myself actually looking at him and not really paying much attention to the game anymore. Even when Big Dan had him sit out for a couple of minutes, I was continuously drawn to my little friend. Luckily he didn't seem to notice me staring at him, that might have been a bit awkward. One thing I had to admit to myself, though: he look stunningly cute in that yellow football outfit.

It was the referees whistle for the end of the match that brought me back on my feet again. Final score: 9 to 1, with 2 goals from Sander (his second was after a corner kick). The ritual handshakes with the opponents, his former teammates, went pretty normal, but didn't seem to be more than a token of good sportsmanship. Only his old coach acted a bit dramatically, ignoring the hand Sander offered. Sander himself didn't make too big deal out of that. He would never call it that, but he'd taken revenge on his coach on the field.

After the handshakes, the Racing boys, including Sander, celebrated their sounding victory by racing towards us, holding hands and then trying to perform a belly slide, ending flat on their faces in the grass and giggling like a bunch of clowns. When they got back up, their jerseys covered in smudges of green and blades of grass, we all headed back inside.

On our way off the pitch, Sander skipped towards we and grabbed my hand. We didn't speak, just smiled at each other, with me gently pinching his little hand as a token of my pride in him. I then saw most of the parents going inside the cafeteria. Mark told me to join them while he got the kids washed and changed. I nodded to accept the invitation and told Sander where he could find me. Already being used to what happens at football matches he simply answered with an okay and went along with his new team. The praise he was expecting from me would have to wait just a bit longer.

The parents of the Racing boys were already ordering their drinks and taking their seats, having joined three tables to make a big one. But before I could join them, the old man from Rood-Zwart I'd spoken too before the match came to me.

"I take it we won't be seeing much of Sander anymore, after today," he said.

"Only on the other side of the field, I'm afraid," I nodded.

"You must have enjoyed seeing them crush our boys," he sneered.

"Well, a little," I admitted. "But only because of your coach. After how he treated Sander this season, he deserved that, and I'm still planning to find out why he did it. The only thing that really matters to me is that Sander had fun out there again."

"We never understood why he did that to Sander," the man confessed. "We felt sorry for the kid."

"Felt sorry but did nothing," I confronted him. "He had no one standing up for him, so getting him out was the only option."

"I suppose you're right," the man sighed, seemingly realizing he and the other parents were to blame as well. "In any case, we lose a match and a good player. With him we might have had a chance to win a few matches."

"It's too late for that, now, sir," I shrugged, not happy with his self-pity. "You've got your coach to thank for that. You might want to think twice before going on with him next season. And now I'm gonna go celebrate the victory with the others. Enjoy the rest of your day."

Grumbling he let me pass and then returned to the other side of the cafeteria, where he probably told the rest of the Rood-Zwart party what a big jerk I was. I couldn't care less. When I joined the Racing supporters, they welcomed me, offered me a drink (another cup of coffee, so I could double up Sander's reward) and then asked me a thing or two about Sander. I told them the whole story, which I felt they were entitled to. They all agreed that I'd done the right thing and were happy to have Sander as a new member of the team.

Five minutes later Mark joined us at the table, letting me know he'd left Big Dan to look after the boys until they were all dressed and ready. Before I could ask, he told me Sander was doing a-okay and that the other kids already treated him as one of the team. Even if most of my worries had gone, that was still good to know.

"I've also made a decision about what team Sander might play with," Mark said. "But we'll talk about it as soon as he's back."

"Sure," I smiled gratefully, knowing that Sander would be in good hands with Mark or Big Dan. There was a third coach in the team that I hadn't met him, but I had no doubt that he was just as kind as these two.

At that very moment the whole bunch of boys, all in yellow and purple tracksuits (except for Sander), all with their hair still damp from the shower and all equally skittish. Sander was the last of the boys to come in, dropping his sports bag on top of the heap the other kids had formed. As soon as he saw me, he smiled brightly, waved and then made his way towards me. But his smile quickly turned in a frightened look when his former coach suddenly blocked his path.

"Visitting your aunt in Antwerp, are you?" he barked, loud enough for everyone present to hear.

"L… Leave me alone," Sander stammered, trying to go around the jerk of a man.

The coach yanked him back by his collar, almost ripping the jacked to shreds. "Where do you think you're going? You're going back with us."

I quickly got up, ready to rescue Sander from the paws of that brute, but I was beaten too it. "Let the boy go!" Big Dan's familiar booming voice said, almost causing an earthquake.

The shock effect of Daniel's intervention was enough for Sander to break free and to run for safety, hiding behind me, holding his arms around my waste. When the effect wore off and the man realized where Sander was, he looked really pissed.

"You!" he yelled at me. "You're behind this!"

He strided towards me, ready to launch his fists at me, but Big Dan grabbed him by the shoulder and roughly pulled him back, hard enough for the guy to lose his balance and almost trip over his own feet. "If you're not out off here in five seconds, I'm calling the cops," Big Dan threatened.

"Hold that thought, Dan," I said. "I'd like to hear him out first."

"Whatever you say, Robert," Dan nodded. "But if he turns berserk again, he's out. You, sit down!"

With a push with his big hands, he pushed Sander's former coach down on a chair and held him there, holding his shoulders in a tight grip.

"Now, you'd better answer my questions correctly, or I'll have Dan call the cops, anyway," I said angrily, sitting down in front of him, with Sander standing right behind me, still terrified of the man.

"Whatever," the man shrugged, obviously not worried about the threats we made. But then we got help from an unexpected corner.

"Yes, Jerry," the old man belonging with the Rood-Zwart supporters. "We would like to know what the reason for all this is, as well."

"Indeed," the man I'd spoken to the week before agreed. "What were thinking, keeping Sander from playing. We could've done a lot better this season with him in the team."

"Now you decide to stand up for him," I smirked at the men. "When it's too late. Still, thanks for the support." I then turned around and looked at Sander. I wanted to hear what happened at that tournament from him, first. "You remember that tournament you played last summer?"

Sanders eyebrows raised in surprise, probably wondering how I'd found out about that. "Yes," he nodded.

"Did anything happen, that day?" I asked. Sander briefly looked over at Jerry, as his old coach was called, hesitated a bit and then nodded. "Want to tell em?"

The boy nodded and said: "After the finals, he told me I wouldn't be playing anymore."

"Did he tell you why?" I wanted to know.

"I'm not sure," Sander pondered. "He said I would cost him money, or something, or that I had cost him money when we won the finals. I don't know what that meant."

"Cost him money?" I asked, wanting to make sure I heard him okay. Sander just nodded, which made me thinking. I went through all possible reasons why winning a tournament would cost his coach money, but then it suddenly dawned on me. I turned back to Jerry, angry with what I'd figured out and practically shouted at him in disgust. "You bet money on that tournament, didn't you?"

Jerry's eyes went big and I knew it was true. Then he looked angrily at Sander for telling me about it. "1500 euros the little jerk cost me that day," he admitted. "I'd even asked him to throw the game, but no, he had to go and score that goal."

I looked back at Sander, who nodded to confirm what the man had told. "He promised me money if I didn't play at my best," Sander filled me in. "But I thought it'd be unfair towards the others, so I played as I always did."

"As you should have. No one should ask you to do something like that," I reassured Sander. I turned back to Jerry, who still didn't seem to care about what he'd done. "So how much did you win by keeping Sander out for the rest of the season?"

"Two hundred per match," Jerry simpled stated. "Three hundred if the others scored more than 10 goals against us, which happened a couple of times."

"That's a pretty steep price, Jerry," I said, absolutely disgusted with the man. "All on the backs of unknowing kids."

"They don't care," the man just shrugged. "I didn't even have to ask them to play badly. Just keep Sander out so he would spoil it again."

"The boys might not care," the old man interrupted us. "But we do. I'm gonna see to it you won't come near our boys again."

"Whatever," Jerry smirked sarcastically.

"And just to make sure you don't go expand your business elsewhere," Mark suddenly said, "I'm calling the cops. They don't laugh with illegal gambling."

"And how are you gonna prove that?" Jerry asked, still convinced nothing could happen to him.

It was my turn to laugh. "Easily," I said, taking out my cell phone. "These things have audio recording, nowadays."

Jerry's self assured grin quickly disappeared and changed into a look of defeat. He knew we had him cornered. He quickly got up, and practically ran out, probably heading home to hide whatever evidence he had of his illegal gambling. It was Dan who called my bluff.

"Can you really record audio with that thing?" he asked, pointing at my cell phone.

I smiled at him, holding up my cell phone. "Probably," I said. "Don't ask me how, though, I never tried."

"So you didn't…," Mark realized. "Jeez, remind me never to play poker with you."

"He he, I won't," I promised. "What about you calling the cops?"

"Not sure, really," he hesitated. "I don't really want to be involved in this."

"Maybe," I nodded understandingly. "But I still think they should know, if only to prevent him from finding another team whose matches he can sell. Make it an anonymous call."

"Yeah, that might not be a bad idea," Mark agreed. "Anyway, I don't think we'll be seeing much of him again."

"Let's hope not," I sighed and then turned to Sander, feeling guilty for having him go through this. "Are you alright, buddy?"

"I'm fine," Sander smiled, clearly relieved that the man had gone.

"Cool. Oh, I almost forgot your reward for today's match." I said, digging into my pocked. I held out the cookies I'd saved and said: "Don't eat them all at once, though, you'll spoil your appetite."

"Two cookies? Is that it?" Sander said, disappointed.

"Yeah, Robert, is that it?" Big Dan echoed. "I think I can do better. Come over here son."

Sander walked around the table towards Big Dan, who held the plastic bag he'd held when he entered the building earlier in front of Sander. Sander grabbed the bag and held it open before him. He gasped loudly and practically ripped the bag away from the contents.

"Oh, Robert, look!" he shouted excitedly. In his hands he held a brand new yellow and purple tracksuit, matching the ones his team mates were wearing. He turned back to Big Dan and gave the man a big hug. "This is so cool! Thanks!"

The kind man (was he really Santa in disguise?) chuckled at the boy's reaction and patted his back a couple of times. "Well, since you're part of our team, now, I thought you'd better look the part. I knew we had a few extra lying around, so there you go."

"Cool!" Sander repeated himself and turned to me, holding out his prize, looking overjoyed. "Isn't this great, Robert!"

"It sure is, my little prince," I said, not even knowing if he wanted me to call him that in public. "You deserved that. You played a great match out there."

"I did?" he asked, wanting to be praised.

"Two goals and three assists," I summed up. "That's a foot in half of all the goals scored today. I call that a great match, but I'm not the expert here. Mark is."

"And Mark agrees," Mark pitched in. "That's why I'm gonna ask Leo, that's the coach of the regionals, to have you play with his team next week."

"The regionals? Really?" Sander asked, not believing his ears. But then he thought things over for a second, biting his lower lip like he always does when in deep thought and then said: "If it's okay with you, I'd rather play with this team again."

"Oh, and why's that," Mark wanted to know, a bit surprised with Sander refusing the opportunity to play at a higher level.

"I kinda had fun, today," Sander explained. "The other kids were really nice to me, from the start. I wanna help them win their matches"

"Loyalty," Mark nodded with a kind smile. "If that's what you want, it's okay with me. How about you, Big Dan?"

"You mean I get to keep him?" Big Dan said. "I'm not saying no to that! Welcome aboard, Sander."

"Hehe, cool," Sander smiled broadly. "Thanks!"

"Hey, Sander, come play with us," one of the other kids shouted from the door.

My little friend looked up at who was calling for him, briefly looked at me for approval and darted off as soon as I'd nodded my okay. I watched him until he was out off the cafeteria, happy to see him enjoying himself.

"That was unexpected," Mark said when Sander was out off sight. "Kids rarely say no to the chance to play at a higher level."

"He might still change his mind," I answered. "I think he just bought himself some time to adjust to this new environment. Seeing him having fun again is worth what matters most, right now, especially after having suffered Jerry's treatment for so long."

"Yeah, you could be right," Mark agreed. "With the season almost at an end, it might even be better this way. We'll see what happens next season."

"That's what I was thinking," I nodded. "Anyway, I owe you one. If you ever need anything…"

"I already told you, you don't owe me anything," Mark refused. "We got a good new player in our team, thanks to you. We're even. Unless…"

"Unless what?" I asked.

"From what I've seen, it's obvious you're good with kids," Mark remarked. "Any interest in becoming part of the team?"

"In what way?" I asked. "Coaching is out of the question. I don't know a thing about football."

"I was thinking more in the lines of logistics," Mark explained. "The person coordinating the lower age teams is retiring after the season. Maybe that's something for you?"

"Aren't functions like that usually given to people who're already with the club?" I asked.

"Usually, but I'd prefer someone like you who actually puts the kids in first place," Mark said. "If it came to a vote, you'd have my support and I'm pretty sure Dan would back you up as well. And Leo's been with us for so long, he won't be too hard to convince."

"Really? And what would I have to do, exactly?" I informed.

"Mostly it'd come down to organizing stuff," Mark said. "Help organize our annual tournament, which we're holding in three weeks, get our teams registered for next season, get the necessary paperwork done in case of accidents… Stuff like that."

"Oh, I see," I nodded. "A bit behind the scenes, then. I could probably do that, yeah. Let me think about it a couple of days, okay?"

"I take that as a yes," Mark smiled, knowing me too well. It did seem like a fun thing to do. "We're having a meeting with all the staff in three weeks. Just show up and I'll introduce you. The rest will pretty much be a formality."

"Errr… okay," I agreed.

"Great," Mark smiled even wider and turned over to Big Dan, who was enjoying a cold beer. "Hey Dan, have you got some of those outfits in his size? We've got another new member."

"Really, now?" Big Dan chuckled. "Sorry, I only give those to the youngsters. I don't wanna risk getting a hug from you, like the one Sander gave me."

"Haha, understood, mister," I laughed.

"No, really, there aren't any left in your size, but we can order an extra for next season," Dan told me and then seemed to think deep over something. "No, wait, that'll be your job, too. So if you don't get any, it's your own fault."

"Oy, under pressure already," I sighed. "I hope the job pays well."

"What job?" I heard the most wonderful voice ask.

I looked past Big Dan and saw Sander coming towards me, followed by two of his teammates. He joined us at the table, asking for a drink which I ordered right away. After a sip from his Aquarius, he decided to take a seat on my lap, not finding any chairs available.

"Well, Mark just hired me as a coordinator for next season," I explained the boy.

"Really? That's cool," Sander said enthusiastically. "Now we will both be in the same club!"

"I guess so," I nodded.

"Hey, Simon," he called to one of his buddies. "Uncle Rob's gonna be on our team, too!"

That got a few cheers from Simon and the other kids who were sitting at a table behind us. "Uncle Rob? Where's that come from?"

"Well, you're a bit like an uncle, so I thought…" Sander stammered a bit. "You don't mind, don't you."

"Nah, of course not," I said, ruffling his hair a bit. "Uncle Rob it is."

"Three cheers for Uncle Rob," Big Dan shouted, raising his glass.

All people present, the Rood-Zwart supporters already gone, shouted three cheers for me, making me blush and shy away a bit. I'm really not used to being in the spotlights like that. Luckily I'd work behind the scenes, here. I then checked the time to see how close to lunchtime we were, which was really close.

"We'd better get going, now, Sander," I said. "Your grandmother will be waiting with lunch."

"Oh, okay," Sander nodded, a bit sad he had to leave. He turned to Mark and asked: "When's practice?"

"Tuesdays and Thursdays, from 6 to 7.30," Mark informed his new team member. "Try to make it a bit before that. If you can't make it, just give me a call."

"Okay," Sander said. "I'll be there."

Sander hopped off my lap and walked over to the pile of sports bags where he dug his out. I got up as well and said my goodbyes to the people still present, thanking Mark and Big Dan again. They waved us out and a few minutes later we were on our way back home. No matter how the rest of the day would go, this had already been unforgettable, for so many reasons. The big smile on Sander's face as he sat beside me on the passenger seat told me he felt the same. Next stop: IKEA.

***

Lunch after Sander's first match with Racing wasn't anything special. Annie usually brings home fresh bread for sandwiches, which I appreciate just as much as her home cooking. It was already close to 1 p.m. when we sat around the table, so there wasn't too much time left before heading to the nearest IKEA store, which was about an hour's drive from where we lived. Still, there was enough time to allow Sander to tell his grandmother all about what had happened that morning.

Only briefly mentioning the encounter with his former coach, Jerry, Sander pretty much reported about his match in detail, including the warm welcome he'd received from Mark, Big Dan and the other kids. Of course his goals were the highlights of his story. I didn't speak more than ten words during his story, but I didn't care. Hearing Sander talk so lively, so cheerfully about the events was music to my ears, and going by the broad smile on Annie's lips, she felt just the same. Once his tale was finished, he took a big swipe of the chocolate milk to moisten his throat. Putting his cup down, he turned to me, still smiling.

"Hey, Uncle Rob. When are we gonna go shopping for my room?" he asked, already looking forward to the rest of our day.

"In a couple of minutes," I said, briefly checking the time. "It's a bit of drive, so we'd better not wait too long if we want to have enough time to get what we need."

"Uhuh, okay," Sander nodded.

"Better go upstairs and change into something a bit more tidy than your sports wear, honey," Annie told her son, pointing at her grandson's track suit. "These need to be washed anyway."

"Okay," the boy obeyed, getting up from his chair, heading up for his room.

"Uncle Rob?" Annie remarked.

"Heh, yeah, that was new to me, too," I explained. "Somewhere this morning he decided to call me that and I didn't have the heart to tell him not to. And I kinda liked the sound of it."

Annie smiled at me and said: "That shows you how highly he thinks of you, Robert. I think you've even done more than an average uncle. So, if he wants to call you Uncle Rob, it's fine with me."

"Okay," I nodded. "With my future job with Racing, chances are other kids will pick up that name, quickly."

"Yeah, probably," Annie said. "Sander won't mind that. I'm pretty sure you'll spoil him enough to let him feel you're his uncle, and his only."

"You bet," I smiled. "Starting with this afternoon. Just to be on the safe side, though, but is there a limit to what we can spend on his room, this afternoon?"

"No, not really. Just don't go overboard with it." Annie said.

"Okay," I agreed to her terms, just as Sander entered the living room again, wearing a pair of black jeans and a green hooded sweater. He'd even combed his hair. "Looking sharp, kiddo!" I complimented him on his choice of clothing. "Ready to go?"

"Yep!" the youngster nodded enthusiastically.

"Then put your shoes on, grab your coat and we're off," I instructed him. "Bring your drawing too, so you know how big everything has to be."

"Errm… I kinda left it at your place, this morning," Sander told me, blushing a bit.

"Oh, no worries, kiddo," I said. "We'll go pick it up first. It's not like I live on the other side of the country, ey."

"Hehe, okay," my little friend giggled.

I turned to Annie and said: "We should make it back in time for dinner."

"Just be careful on the road, Robert, so you make it back in one piece" she nodded. "And you, young man, don't go causing any trouble."

"I won't, grannie, I promise," Sander said, hugging his grandmother lovingly.

"Then you two have a nice day," she smiled, holding her little sweetheart for a couple of seconds before seeing us off.

"Thanks, Annie," I said. "I'll take good care of him. Come on, buddy, let's hit the road."

Sander waved at his grandmother one more time before exiting through the front door. I followed him out and together we walked the distance towards my house to pick up the boy's schedule.

"Are we getting paint, too?" he asked as we crossed the road.

"That might be a bit tight, I'm afraid," I told him. "Unless we get factory made paints, which are a bit expensive, they have to mix the paint before we can take it home. That usually takes a while."

"Oh, okay," Sander answered, sounding a bit disappointed.

"What we can do is get some color strips," I suggested. "Then you can choose what colors you like for your room after dinner. You'll know what your bed and all will look like, so it'll be easier to pick something that matches."

"Cool," Sander brightened up again. "Then when do we get the paint?"

"I was thinking of making a quick stop on my way back from work, next week," I told him. "There's a D-I-Y not too far from where I work. That way we'll have all that we need by next weekend."

"Sweet! Then we can start painting next Saturday afternoon!" the boy said excitedly.

"Yeah, we could do that," I agreed, "But I have a better suggestion."

"What's that?" the boy wanted to know.

"Don't you have Easter holiday coming up, soon?" I asked.

"Yeah, in two weeks," Sander told me. "Why?"

"Before I moved here, I planned a week off after the Easter weekend," I explained. "That's during your holiday. We can get do your room then, together. I need to move my cd's and dvd's out first, anyway."

"Oh, okay, cool," he agreed with a smile and then, as we arrived at my place, he concluded with that typical boy logic. "And when it's done, I can have a sleepover. There's no school anyway."

"Now there's a thought," I chuckled. "Give your room it's maiden trip, huh. Well, if your grandmother agrees, it's okay with me."

I unlocked the front door and stepped aside to let Sander in. "Now, go on inside, find your drawing and let's get moving," I told him.

"Yep," Sander nodded. "Be back in a flash."

He was. He found his drawing still on the kitchen table where he'd left it earlier. A bit later we were on the highway, heading for the nearest IKEA. Sander was in the backseat, safely buckled up, his drawing lying next to him. It didn't take too long before the combination of the physical efforts from the football match and the hot air blowing from my radiator to avoid to prevent condensation on my windows took its toll on the little boy. He drooped to the side and fell asleep, with his head against the window pane. I turned down the radio to let him enjoy his nap.

A furniture store might not be a nine year old boy's idea of a fun afternoon, but when we entered the building, his eyes did grow wild, seeing all the different styles of living rooms, lounges and so on. With the way he'd drawn out the room, I'd already detected an interest in interior design with Sander. As we walked through the top floor where all the furniture is displayed, he would often stop to take a good look and make a few comments. I know it's way too early to tell, but I've got a feeling that he might decide to make decorating homes would make a fine career for the boy.

When we reached the children's room department, the child's imagination really went overboard. With his drawing as a reference, he looked around attentively, searching for the stuff that came closest to what he'd had in mind when he drew it. I let him take his time, going back and forth between different beds and dressers and desks and such. His plan even required a second tour of the whole store to find the missing parts. In the end he'd made up a list of the stuff he'd chosen and dragged me around a third time to show me the final selection. Along the way, I'd told him to add a few things to store my cd's and dvd's in.

Once Sander had made his choice clear, we had one of the IKEA staff tap it all into the computer. Some of the stuff I wouldn't be able to take home, because I didn't have a big enough car, so I ended up putting everything up for delivery at my place, which would happen the following Thursday. That meant I'd have to take the day off, which wouldn't be a problem. Payment would happen then as well, which gave Annie and me the chance to discuss who would be paying what. The order completed, we decided to take a breather and get ourselves a drink and a snack.

During our break, Sander sat in front of me, smiling brightly. I praised him again for his good taste. His joy broadened even more when he munched down the piece of cake, showing me my little friend was a sweet tooth, like so many other kids (and me). Afterwards, we headed to the lower part of the store and bought some practical stuff like bedding, carpets, lights… which we then loaded in the trunk of the car.

"Are we gonna go to the hardware store for paint, now?" Sander asked when we passed the exit barrier.

"Yep, sure," I nodded, looking at my little prince through my rear view mirror. "I put the address of the one nearby in the GPS. They got the same shop near where I work, so we can pick up samples here and I'll get the paint next Thursday, after they've delivered the furniture."

"We'll need brushes and stuff, too," Sander told me.

"Yep, I'll get all that together with the paint," I said. "Unless you want to do that now. There's still enough time."

"Nah, it's cool," the boy said, shaking his head. "I'd rather go home, actually."

"Getting a bit bored, are we?" I asked.

"A bit," he admitted. "The sooner we get home for dinner, the sooner we can play RISK."

"Oh, it's a declaration of war, now, is it?" I smiled. "Okay, then. We'll do this: I'll run to the hardware store on Thursday, get the necessary equipment and bring home some samples. I know what colors you want, so I'll know what to look for. We can then look over the samples and get the paint you want next weekend. How's that sound?"

"Cool!" Sander simply nodded.

"Let's go home, then," I suggested. "Prepare to be dominated!"

"Hah, you wish!" Sander accepted the challenge.

So, only an hour after buying the IKEA store half empty, we came home. I put the car in my garage and help Sander get the stuff we bought upstairs to his future room. After that, we headed back to his home, where we found Annie in the kitchen, working on our dinner. Sander laid his drawing on the dining room table and ran to her for a quick hug and a kiss. From the kitchen, Annie told me to take a seat and then sent Sander to me with a fresh glass of soda, which I gladly accepted. Ten minutes later we were all around the table, with a row of fish sticks, a pile of mashed potatoes and spinach on our plates.

During dinner, Sander talked nonstop about what his room would look like and promised his grandmother to show her the furniture he'd chosen on the website. He also told her about our arrangements concerning paint and stuff and then launched the idea of using the first week of his Easter holiday to work on his room.

"Are you sure you want to sacrifice your entire week off from work to that room?" Annie asked me after she heard of our plans.

"I didn't really have anything to do, that week," I shrugged. "I just took the week off to break the daily routine a bit. Now I'll have something to do, that week."

"If you say so," Annie said.

"It'll be interesting to see how it turns out, because I'm not the most handy person around," I admitted.

"A bit of a challenge, then, huh," Annie concluded.

"Yep. But we'll manage, won't we, buddy?" I asked, turning to Sander, who'd followed our conversation closely.

"Uhuh, yep, sure," Sander nodded confidently. "It's painting and screwing furniture together, that can't be too hard."

"That's the spirit," I smiled at him, ruffling his hair. "Now why don't you go get your RISK board?"

"Okay!" Sander said, swiftly getting up from his chair and running up the stairs.

"I don't think it really matters how things work out, Robert," Annie said as soon as the boy was out of ear shot.

"With all the work he did on that drawing, I think it does," I disagreed, not understanding what she meant.

"Well, it matters," she corrected herself. "The job has to be well done. But it's doing it with you that counts most for him."

"That goes both ways, Annie," I said. "I like having Sander with me. He's a terrific kid."

"He is and I already know you're very fond of him," Annie said. "He didn't call you Uncle Rob for no reason, though. I know you probably won't admit, but the football, this project and God knows what other plans you'll come up with, those are things most boys do with their father."

"Oh, I see," I stated, a bit shocked at Annie's revelation. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

"I know that comes as a surprise," Annie said. "I won't ask you to be a father to him. All I want is that you keep showing him that he's important to you."

"That won't be too difficult to do," I smiled. "Because he is important to me. I know he's not my flesh and blood, but he's all I'd ever want in a son. I'll be there whenever he needs me to be.

"I can't ask for more," Annie smiled. "And when in doubt, I'm always there to help sort things out."

"Thanks," I simply said. "I'll do my best not to betray your trust in me."

With all this heavily emotional stuff passing between Annie and me, I was more than relieved when Sander reappeared, holding an old version of RISK (the one with the starlike pawns) in his hands. He went straight to the living room table and set up the board. It was only when he called me to pick a color that I noticed a change in his outfit, one that fit his free spirit a lot better than jeans and hooded sweaters.

As he stood next to his chair, dealing the territory cards, I couldn't help but stare. He'd left his black jeans and his sweater upstairs, together with his socks and t-shirt. All he was wearing now was one of those plain white tank top and a pair of grey cotton briefs. Adorable was the word that came to my mind first, tempting was the second. The shirt hung loosely on his body, coming halfway down his hips. His briefs were a snug fit, following the smooth curve of his little butt, with only the smallest of bulges hinting at his boyhood. The picture of Sander standing there like that, waiting for me to play with him, was one of pure innocence. Not a hair on my head dared thinking of it as anything else.

RISK being a game of tactics added with a bit of luck (no matter how well you plan your war, the dice decided whether you win or loose a battle), I had the upper hand for once. My red pawns soon crowded Asia and Europe, with only a few of Sander's yellow territories to take over for world domination. Sander himself proved that playing the game was more important than winning, taking pleasure even in seeing his armies swiped of the world.

The game took over an hour to finish, with the board covered up in my reds. It was getting close to Sander's bedtime, so we weren't surprised to hear Annie calling it a night for her grandson. We put all the bits and pieces of the game back in its box. I reminded myself to get a set of the boy's favorite board games for his room, so we can play them when he's with me. He'd even chosen the right type of furniture to store those games, so he must have been thinking the same thing. With the box under his arm, he got up from his chair and walked over to his grandmother to wish her goodnight. After his goodnight hug, he came back to me with a request.

"Are you coming upstairs with me to tuck me in?" he almost pleaded.

I briefly glanced over at Annie who just nodded her approval. "I have to use the bathroom first," I told him. You go on upstairs, brush your teeth and hop into bed and I'll be with you in five minutes."

"Okay," he smiled happily.

Quickly he ran up the stairs and as I reached the bathroom, I could already hear him running the tap to brush his teeth. The visit to the bathroom only took me two minutes, but I knew Sander would be hurrying up to get in bed before I got there. I climbed the stairs, hearing the patter of his little feet as he crossed the hall to his room, and made for the door he left ajar. I silently rapped at the door to announce my arrival and stepped inside where I found my little bundle of joy, already flat on his back, his sheets still folded in half, only covering his legs.

Either I'd come too early, or he'd decided to wait till after my goodnight wishes, but he was still in his tank top and briefs. That wasn't a bad thing either, because I had no idea of how I'd handle seeing him completely bare. With his choice to not wear anything at night, I knew it was practically inevitable that I would one day see all of him. When that time came, I would have to set my being attracted to him aside and be very careful not to complicate our friendship.

"That was quite the day, huh, kiddo," I said quietly as I covered the rest of him up.

"Uhuh, yeah," he croaked, sleep already creeping into his little body. "Will you take me to football practice next week?"

"That might be a bit tight," I told him, not wanting to make promises I couldn't keep. "I'm not sure if I can make it back in time from work."

"Oh, okay," Sander said, naturally disappointed.

"I can pick you up, though," I then said. "I might even come and see how you're doing."

"Really? That'd be cool," the boy brightened up again.

"I'll let your grandmother know I'll be your cab driver, after practice," I told him.

"Okay," he nodded with a smile. "I can't wait till the guest room is ready," he then said, sitting upright.

"Patience, buddy," I answered, ruffling his hair again, something I'd become to enjoy doing. "Once we get to working on it, it'll be finished before you know it."

"And then I get to sleepover at your place," he announced excitedly.

"Yep," I nodded. "At least, if your grandmother lets you. You haven't asked her yet."

"She'll say yes," Sander said self assured.

"Okay, then," I smiled. "But just to make sure, you'd better go to sleep, now. We don't want her to think I'm keeping you awake, huh."

"Hehe, no, guess not," the boy giggled.

I then held out my arms and said: "Now come here, silly boy, so I can wish you goodnight properly."

Still giggling he crawled out from under the sheets, kneeled down and then let himself fall into my arms. I hugged my little friend close to me, caressing his back tenderly and held him like that for two minutes. When I loosened my grip, he sat back on his haunches. I put my hand under his chin and kissed his forehead and then held his sheets up so he could crawl back under them. Once he was nicely tucked in again, I kissed him once more and got up, wishing him sweet dreams. I got up and walked to the door. I was about to leave him to his boy dreams when he called upon me.

"Uncle Rob?" he practically whispered.

"Yes, my little prince?" I replied, turning back to him.

"I love you," he said in the sweetest of voices.

Now those words are not to be used lightly, but the look in Sander's eyes and the almost secretive way he spoke the words were proof enough that he meant it. Of course I felt the same way, even though I still had to pay attention to not confuse plain attraction with love. Nevertheless, deep inside, I knew Sander was a lot more than just a cute little friend. Maybe when Annie declared our time spent together as father-son activities, she wasn't that far from the truth. I'm no father figure, far from it, but that didn't mean I couldn't feel some fatherly pride and love for Sander. And no matter what, the three words my little prince had just uttered were the most beautiful words in the world. The were honest and sincere, so I could only answer them the same way.

"I love you too, my little prince," I smiled. "Sweet dreams, buddy."

"'Nite," he smiled back happily before turning over on his side.

Quietly I closed the door to his room. For the rest of the evening, during my late night chat with Annie, my walk home and the minutes before going to sleep myself, Sander's 'I love you' echoed through my mind. Never had I heard anything more beautiful.

Chapter 5
Painting

All those moments my love for the boy grew stronger and stronger. His trust in me helped me set my physical attraction for him aside, although I would still often stare at him. With my love for him growing stronger, he grew more beautiful. And even though Sander was most of the times the one seeking affection, I would often just reach out for him to caress his face, hold his hands or rub his back, wanting to show him that our love went both ways.

Picking him up after practice every Tuesday and Thursday night shortened the working week noticeably, even if we only saw each other for about an hour. I'd arrive at the football stadium fifteen minutes before the end of practice, allowing me to watch him for a bit and seeing how quickly he'd adapted to his new environment. He'd even made a couple of friends, which made me happy. After changing, during which I waited outside, talking with the other parents, I drove him home and dropped him off at his doorstep with a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

The first Saturday after shopping for furniture, right before going to his next match, I handed him a collection of color strips, telling him to check them out later and choose which colors he wanted for the bedroom walls. He picked a broken white as the main color, wanting the room to be bright. One wall, the one where his desk would sit next to, would be burgundy red. Picture frames and posters would go on that wall.

When our first working day came, all furniture was safely stored in the storage room upstairs, my c.d.'s had moved downstairs to the living room and my dvd's were temporarily stuffed in cardboard boxes. I'd spread newspapers all over the room to make sure the floor wouldn't get covered in paint. I'd also filled the few drilling holes in the walls, making the walls even and ready for their first coat of paint. On Monday, the start of my week off, Sander arrived at 8.30 in the morning, ready to get the job done.

My little partner was smiling broadly when I opened the door and looked excited, as if he were about to open up a birthday present. He was dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a red sweater with some Disney like figure on the front. His clothes seemed rather new, which might be a risk with the job at hand. Luckily, I'd already come up with something that would prevent his clothes from getting painted along with the walls.

"Hey, there, my little prince," I greeted him, stepping aside to let him in.

"Hi," he just said as he came in and headed for the stairs.

"Ho, there, buddy," I stopped him. "I know you're a bit impatient, but I'm not starting before I get a hug from you."

The boy stopped and turned around, giggling sweetly and then wrapped his little arms around my waste. I leaned forward and lifted him up so I could carry him into the living room, sitting down on the couch with him in my lap, facing me.

"Aren't we gonna start painting?" Sander asked, wondering why we were sitting there instead of being upstairs with paint brushes and rolls in our hands.

"In a minute," I nodded. "I'm afraid you're a bit overdressed for the task."

He looked down at his outfit, tugging at his sweater. "What do yo mean?" he asked.

"Those clothes aren't fit for painting walls," I explained. "I'm not an expert, but I don't think paint stains come out easily. I don't think your grandmother will be too pleased if you get back home with your sweater covered with paint."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," the boy blushed. "I can go home and change into something else."

"No need for that," I told him. "If you just take off your sweater and leave it down here, I got something to prevent the rest of you getting dirty."

"Oh, okay," he agreed. He got up and stripped off his sweater, leaving him in a green and white t-shirt that looked more worn than the rest of his clothes. "Now can we go upstairs?"

"Sure, go on up. I'll be with you in a minute," I said.

He quickly turned around and went up to his room to be. Before following him, I went into the kitchen and grabbed some scissors and a roll of plastic blue garbage bags, which is used for PMD waste. A minute later I found Sander standing in the room in front of the makeshift table I'd set up to put all our tools on. I ripped one of the bags from the roll and held it in front of him, upside down. I then cut an opening in the bag, wide enough for Sander's head to go through, and clipped off the corners for his arms.

"There, put this over your head," I instructed Sander. "It should fit well enough and it'll keep the paint from dripping onto your clothes."

"Okay," Sander agreed, taking the bag. After clumsily trying to get the plastic cover over him and failing, he handed it back to me. "Can you do it for me?"

"Sure, kiddo," I nodded. I rolled the bag up a bit and then pulled it over his head, telling Sander to stick his arms through the other holes. I then rolled it down his body till it reached his knees. "There you go," I smiled. "Paint stain proof!"

"I looks silly," Sander complained a bit and then grinned at me. "You're not gonna put me outside for the garbage men to pick me up, are you?"

"Nah, don't worry," I laughed at his wittiness. I then pointed at the printing on the bag and said: "Besides, I can only put plastic bottles and tin cans in here. It doesn't say anything about small boys."

"Eèèh, not funny!" the boy retorted, sticking his tongue out. "Now, can we start painting? At this rate, we'll need a whole year to get the room done."

"Sure thing, boss," I said, ruffling his hair a bit. "We'll start with the red wall. I've already taped off the edges, so it doesn't go on any of the other walls. I'll do the borders, first"

"What do I do?" Sander asked.

"First poor some of the paint in that tray over there," I said, pointing at the tray on the table. "Not too much, so it doesn't overflow. Then grab one of the paint rolls, roll it through the paint, scrape it off so it doesn't drip and start painting."

"Okay, the boy said, excited again. This was new to him (and to me, as well, to be honest).

I watched as Sander followed my instructions, waited until his roll hit the wall and then took a brush and the can with paint, climbed the ladder and started working on the upper borders.

"Make sure to go over the same spot a couple of times, so you cover everything," I told Sander as I stood on the ladder, occasionally looking at the boy's work.

"Yep," he simple nodded.

The rest of the morning we worked on the one wall, making sure not to miss a spot and to even out the paint. Sander did a good job, mostly working on the lower half of the wall. After a while I allowed him to climb the ladder and get to the upper half as well. We had the radio playing in the back and we chattered throughout the morning, about everything we could come up with. Even if it was work, it was rather pleasant and I could tell Sander enjoyed it. His plastic cover also did its job, getting a smudges of paint that would otherwise go on the boy's clothes. A little past noon, the one wall was done. We headed downstairs into the kitchen, where I fixed us some sandwiches and some instant soup to store energy for the rest of the day.

"It's going rather well, don't you agree," I complimented our work as we sat in the kitchen together.

"Uhuh, yeah," Sander nodded happily. "The room will look great when it's done."

"I think so too," I agreed. "You've got a good eye for this sort of stuff."

"I'm a kid who knows what he wants, ey," he smiled self assured.

"You sure are, my little prince," I chuckled, tapping his leg a couple of times, feeling the plastic of the bag under my hands. "The bag doesn't bug you too much, does it?"

"Nah, it's okay," Sander said, looking down at the plastic. "I'd just like it a bit shorter. I have to keep rolling it up."

"Then I'll cut of a couple of inches when get back upstairs," I promised.

"Cool," he just smiled.

We finished our lunch a couple of minutes later, let it digest a little while and then headed upstairs to work on the other three walls. It was clear that they would need a second coating as well, the grey underneath still coming through a bit. We kept busy until dinner time, taking short breaks every now and then for a drink, a snack and a bathroom visit. We progressed rather well and Sander turned out to be rather handy with the paint brush. I even let him take over on doing the borders, which he appreciated. What little I could teach him, he clearly wanted to learn and he picked it up quickly. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Sander could have a future in interior design, if he wants to.

We finished the three white walls by dinner time. We stood next to each other near the door overseeing our first day's work, being happy with the result so far. We then put the lids back onto the paint cans, and headed downstairs to rinse our brushes and rolls out in the backyard. All done, Sander quickly shed the plastic cover, stuffing it into the bin. We then headed into the lounge and flopped down in the couch, sighing deeply, almost in choir.

"The paint should dry nicely overnight," I told Sander as we relaxed on the couch. "I"m leaving the window open a bit to air the room. Tomorrow, we'll do the second coating."

"Cool," Sander agreed cheerfully. "Will we get it done before I have to go to practice?"

I briefly checked the clock and said: "We might, but it's going to be a bit tight."

"How about we just do the whites tomorrow and then continue on Wednesday?" Sander suggested.

"That's a good idea," I complimented the boy's clever mind. "We then have Thursday and Friday to put your furniture together, and Saturday afternoon we can finish up."

"Uhuh, and Saturday night I'm staying with you," Sander concluded.

"I would love that, buddy," I said, putting an arm over his shoulder and hugging him close to me. "Did you ask your grandmother about that?"

"Not yet," Sander confessed, looking a bit worried. "I'm afraid she might say no."

"Really? Why's that?" I wondered.

"Because I might do something… naughty," he said hesitantly.

"Something naughty? Like what?" I asked, slowly figuring out what this was about.

Sander blush wasn't too far off from the burgundy red paint in the room upstairs. "I… errr… I sleep with no clothes on," he stammered. "I think she won't want me to do that when I'm here."

I left a bit of silence after his confession and then caressed his cheeks, pushing his chin up so he looked right up at me. "I kinda already knew about that, buddy," I told him. "And I've talked about it with your grandmother, too."

"Really?" he asked, his eyes big with surprise.

"Yep," I nodded, smiling reassuringly at him. "In the end, it's your room, so you can do whatever you like. If that means sleeping in the buff, then that's fine with your grandmother and me."

"You mean that?" Sander wanted to make sure.

"Sure," I said. "So you shouldn't worry about your grandmother not letting you spend the night this weekend. Just ask her."

"I will!" Sander nodded cheerfully and then maneuvered himself into my lap, facing me and hugged me tightly.

Never refusing a hug from my little prince, I wrapped my arms around him and held him close to me, rubbing his back. As I took a quick look at the clock, I noticed it was getting a bit past dinner time. Regretfully I loosened my hold on the little fellow, knowing it was about time to send him home.

"Your grandmother will be getting a bit worried where you are," I said as he sat up, still on my lap.

"She knows I'm right here," Sander shrugged. "I wish I could stay here already."

"Patience, kiddo," I smiled. "Four more days and we'll have ourselves a fun evening. Until then, you best not upset your grandmother by being home late."

"Okay," the boy surrendered. "I'll ask her about Saturday as soon as I get home."

"You do that," I smiled and then planted another kiss on his forehead. "You'll see, it'll be alright."

Sander returned the kiss, a wet one on the cheek, and then climbed off my lap. "See you tomorrow, uncle Rob," he smiled almost longingly.

"Sure thing, Sander," I winked. "Don't forget your sweater."

Sander then grabbed his sweater, which was still where he'd left it before exchanging it for a plastic bag. He passed by me, still sitting on the couch, not finding it necessary to see him out, gave me another quick hug and then left off. That was the end of a wonderful day, with the prospect of more to come.

----------

Although shortened because of Sander's football practice, Tuesday was pretty much a copy of the day before. The only big difference was that Sander no longer needed to wear a garbage bag. At 8.30 sharp he showed up in the same sweater as the day before, but with a pair of cut off jeans that had seen much better days. The shorts only made it halfway past his thighs and where he'd cut off the rest of the jeans, the cloth was all in threads. They also fit rather tight around his waste, which looked a bit uncomfortable, but he didn't complain. Neither did I, because the tightness of the jeans awarded me with a very good impression of the shape of his little butt. Remember, I was still very attracted to the boy, even if I had no intention to let it show.

As soon as he was inside, he stripped off his sweater, wearing a tank top underneath, and declared smartly that he'd made sure to wear clothes that were allowed to get dirty. I complimented him on the clever move, seeing that with his tank top tucked into his jeans, the pants left nothing to the imagination. It actually reminded me of those Coke Light commercials where women had the hots for the workmen in the office.

Knowing we had a lot of work to do, I snapped out of my reverie and headed upstairs with Sander tailing me. There we went on with the plan to give the white walls a second coating. I left Sander to start with one of the side walls, while I did the one where the window sat. By lunch we'd done more than half of the room, leaving only the third wall and the burgundy red one.

"We might get all of the walls done before I have to go," Sander declared as we sat down having microwaved spaghetti.

"Yeah, we could, but I don't want to rush things," I told him. "It'd be better to finish the ones we set out to do today and leave the last one for tomorrow. The time left before you have to get ready for practice, we can just chill and do something else instead."

"Like what?" Sander asked.

"I don't know," I said. "You like boardgames, right? Maybe we go get some to put in your room."

"You don't have to buy me anything anymore," Sander honestly said. "You've already got me an entire room. If we want to play games here, I'll just bring mine."

"Is there anything you'd like to do, then?" I fished for his ideas.

"There won't be that much time left, so we don't really have to do anything," he simply suggested. "Or maybe, if it's okay with you, I'd like to listen to some of your c.d.'s."

"Of course that's okay with me," I smiled, caressing his bare arm. "You're right, doing nothing can be fun as well. I'm already happy to have you here."

To show how much that last bit meant to him, Sander simply got up from his chair and gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Now, let's go upstairs and finish painting," he declared, already heading for the stairs. "That way there'll be more time to do nothing."

"Sure thing, boss," I agreed. "Let me clean this mess up and I'll be there in a minute."

A bit later, I'd done the dishes first, knowing Sander knew what to do, I found him upstairs on the ladder, already going ahead with the painting. I let the radio play again and then joined him, going over the edges first. A little over an hour later, the job was done and we stood proudly next to each other, looking at the result. With tomorrow's second layer of burgundy red on the remaining wall, the room was starting too look really neat.

"I think we've deserved ourselves an afternoon of lazying about, don't you agree," I said as I wrapped an arm around my little friend's shoulder.

"Yep, we have," he nodded happily. "It looks cool, doesn't it?"

"Sure does, sport," I agreed. "It's going to look even better when it's all done."

"Uhuh, yep," Sander smiled happily.

I gave Sander's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Why don't you go ahead and check those c.d.'s. I'll clean up in here."

"Okay," he simply said and went down the stairs.

A few minutes later, while was in the yard rinsing out brushes and paint rolls, I heard the latest Depeche Mode play on the stereo. I know that's not material for a nine-year old boy and I don't think much of what I own will qualify as good music to my little guest of honor. It was an obvious first choice, my Depeche Mode albums sitting somewhat aside from the rest, with me having the entire discography.

When I entered the room, the c.d. was still playing. Sander had retreated into the couch, having discovered my comic book collection. That collection is less vast, having only one series (Thorgal). When I passed by him to take the clean brushes and stuff upstairs for tomorrow, I noticed he'd started with one of the middle albums of the series.

"You should start by n° 1," I suggested as I sat down next to him, a few minutes later. "It's an ongoing story."

"Oh, okay," he just nodded, briefly looking up from the book. "You don't mind me reading these, do you?"

"Not at all, buddy," I smiled. "Do you like comic books, then?"

"Some," he said, laying the one he held next to him. "I've never read these before."

"They're for an older public, I think," I said. "I don't think many kids your age would read them."

"I don't think grandmother would let me read them," Sander stated.

"Maybe not, but I'll never say no to a boy who wants to try something a bit different," I told him. "But you're a bit special, that way, I've noticed."

"Special? How do you mean?" Sander wanted to know.

"It's actually like you said earlier," I explained. "You're a kid who knows what he wants. Take this music, for example. No nine year old would put a Depeche Mode on and actually let it play."

"It's actually not too bad," he shrugged, briefly glancing at the stereo the music was playing from. "I'm always a bit curious about music and stuff."

"That comes with your creative mind, I think," I nodded. "Like with the design of your room. That was really good."

"You think so? I don't know," he thought deeply. "It seems difficult."

"Nothing comes easy, Sander," I smiled. "It's just a thought, but I think you'd do rather well. But that's up to you, of course."

Sander then shuffled closer to me and leaned into me, resting his head in the nook of my shoulder with his right arm across my waist. "Isn't doing nothing fun?" he said softly.

"It sure is, my little prince," I answered in an equally soft voice, running my hand over his arm. "Especially when we get to do it together."

The little munchkin snuggled up to me, putting his bare feet on the couch and just clung to me. It didn't take too long before his breathing slowed down and his little body sunk down, his head now resting on my lap. I ran my hair gently across his cheek, brushing his soft blonde hair behind his little ear. The hard work had clearly taken its toll on the young boy and a feeling of warmth crept over me, overwhelmed by how much at ease he felt with me.

I sat there for a while, not wanting to disturb the boy in his sleep, until nature called for an urgent bathroom break. Carefully I lifted the boy's head off my lap, placed a pillow underneath and quietly headed for the bathroom to do the necessary. When I came into the lounge room again, Sander was still sound asleep, as I'd hoped. I grabbed one of the fleece blankets I kept underneath the couch pillows and covered the boy up to keep him from catching a cold. While he took his nap, I walked over to my computer to check emails and such.

Sander slept for the better half of an hour. From where I sat I could see him slowly coming back to life. I turned to him, watching him look around to remember where he was. I quietly called out for him to let him know I was nearby and he smiled when he found me still sitting by the computer. He got up, draped the blanket over his shoulders and shuffled towards me.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"That's okay, kiddo," I said when he stood next to me. "You've been working hard the past two days, so it's absolutely normal to get a bit tired. Did you sleep well?"

"Uhuh, yeah," he nodded with a smile and then focussed on the computer screen. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Oh, nothing special," I said. I briefly glanced at the clock on the computer and saw we still had a little time left before I had to take Sander to football practice. "Want to play a game or something?"

"Sure," Sander nodded.

"Okay, then, grab a chair," I told him as I got up. "I'll go get us a little snack. D'you like vanilla ice cream?"

"Yummie, yeah, it's my favorite," he nodded enthusiastically.

"Mine too," I smiled, heading for the kitchen. I scooped us both two balls of ice cream in a bowl, sprayed some whipped cream on top, added a little chocolate sauce and took the icy snack back to the living room where Sander was still standing next to the computer. I sat down, handed him a bowl and a spoon and remarked: "Still deciding on what chair to sit on?"

"No, I'd already chosen one before you got up," he grinned cheekily. He then dropped the sheet on the floor and swiftly maneuvered himself onto lap. "I wanted this chair."

"Interesting choice, silly boy," I chuckled, pinching his sides, causing him to giggle and to almost lose his balance. "Ticklish, are we?"

"Yeah," he still giggled.

"I'll keep that in mind for later, then," I winked at him. "I bet you know your way around the computer, so just find us a game to play."

"Okay," he smiled brightly, stuffing a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth and then reached for the mouse and the keyboard, clicking away till he found a game of online pool.

While we were having our ice creams, we played on the computer till it was time for Sander to get ready for soccer practice. I could tell he was a bit sad that he had to leave. I told him to go get his gear and that I would be driving the car by his house to pick him up.

Today's practice was the first I could follow from beginning to end, but I decided to spend most of the time in the cafeteria with a cup of coffee and the company of the bartender. Although I was pretty sure Sander would have loved me to stay and watch him during practice, but I decided leaving him with his friends was a better option. I didn't want to be a distraction for him during practice and I don't think I'd make a good impression on the other kids if I favored Sander that much as a future coordinator. Before he headed off towards the locker rooms, I'd let Sander know where he could find me afterwards.

When I dropped him off at his house about two hours later, we said our goodbyes with a hug and a kiss. I only drove the last few yards home when Sander was safely inside, already looking forward to the next day. The boy was like a drug to me: no matter how much time I spent with him, I always wanted to be with him more and more. If that was a healthy evolution, I couldn't quite say, but it felt almost natural. Maybe I was developing some fatherly feelings for my little prince, after all.

---------

On Wednesday Sander showed up in the yellow and purple tracksuit Big Dan had given him when he joined Racing. Probably in the rush to come to my place to finish painting his room, he hadn't thought about putting clothes on that were allowed to get stained. His 'Oops' when I made the remark proved he had indeed forgotten about that.

"Well, you can use Monday's system with the plastic bag again," I suggested as we stood in the room we were working on.

"Awww, do I have to?" the boy complained.

"No, but it'd be a shame to get that new tracksuit ruined," I said.

"I guess," he sighed as he looked down at his clothes, tugging at the trousers. Then a mischievous grin appeared on his face. "I know something better," he giggled.

And before I could ask what he'd come up with, he started stripping off his clothes, starting with the jacket of his tracksuit, followed by his trousers, kicking his sneakers off in the process. My eyes grew big at his boldness, but in the end, his idea wasn't too bad.

"Good thinking," I chuckled as he stood before me in a blue t-shirt and a pair of light blue briefs. "Go put your clothes on my bed next door," I told him.

"Hehe, okay," he giggled, blushing a bit and the carried the clothes he'd taken off away from the danger zone.

I started setting our gear up to get the last wall a second coat of the burgundy red while he was away. Dropping his clothes on the bed took longer than I'd guessed and I was about to find out what had stalled him. Maybe he had been checking out my room, since he hadn't been in it yet.

"Look, Uncle Rob, now I can't get my clothes dirty, anymore," he said in a rather quiet voice as he came into the room.

I'd been standing with my back to him as he returned after putting his tracksuit and his sneakers on my bed, so I hadn't seen him come in. But he did say 'Look', so I turned around and almost dropped the brush I was holding when I discovered why taking his clothes into my bedroom had taken him a bit longer. Sander stood proudly in the doorway, with his hands in his hips, a big toothy grin on his lips and a blush matching the paint on his cheeks. Indeed, his clothes would not get dirty, today… None of his clothes!

When the initial shock faded, I couldn't help but laugh. Seeing my little prince standing there with not a stitch of clothing on his body, smiling broadly, blushing a bit because he knew he was doing something a bit naughty, was beautiful and funny at the same time. And even though seeing him completely bare for the first time, it was the boldness of his little stunt and the fact that he stood there so self assured about himself that made the scene picture perfect. It was obvious there was only one reason why he'd done it: to find out how I'd react to him doing something so daring. So I said the first thing that came to my mind.

"Now why didn't I think of that?" I laughed.

Sander giggled cutely, letting his arms drop to his sides and joining me by our working table. Apparently that one line was enough to let him know I approved of his little dare. Still, he looked up at me a bit nervously, wanting to know I was really okay with it.

"I can go put my underwear and my shirt back on, if you want me too," he smiled. "I kinda thought it'd be funny, is all."

"It was, too," I winked. "You're free to do whatever you like. If you think it's better to put some clothes back on, then do so, or stay as you are. As long as this wall gets done by lunch."

"Hehe, okay," Sander giggled again and then grabbed a brush. "Can I do the edges?"

"Sure," I nodded, happy to see him dare to do as he pleases around me.

Of course I knew I would one day have to set some boundaries, but right now, I just wanted to allow Sander to find out for himself what he could and could not do. That way I would learn more about his character and about what he liked to do. Maybe his habit to sleep without the burden that comes with pajamas had stimulated his curiosity about being naked during the day. I suppose that was something he didn't dare to do with his grandmother around, but thought I might grant him the chance to find out how it felt to move through the daily routine without bothering with clothes. Not seeing any harm in it, I could not deny him that opportunity. And of course it gave me, the part of me that was attracted to him physically, the chance to get to know what had been hidden under his covers when I first tucked him in.

At some point during the morning, Sander had just gone over the edges, climbing up and down the ladder to reach the top border, he turned to me, putting his brush down to change it for a paint roll.

"Is it okay if I do the rest alone?" he asked.

"Are you sure? We'll get it done faster if we do it together," I said.

"Not if you keep staring at my butt all the time," he giggled.

'Busted' I thought to myself. I had indeed been rather distracted by his being naked. It was stronger than I dared to admit, but my interest in his body was constantly drawing my attention away from the work at hand. Luckily, his giggled told me it didn't bother him. It even seemed amusing to him. Still, I felt a bit bad for staring.

"Sorry," I said guiltily.

"It's okay," Sander just shrugged. "Now can I finish the wall on my own?"

"I don't see why not," I said. "You've been doing a great job so far, so I'm sure you can manage.

"Cool!" he smiled broadly. Only a minute later he was up on the ladder again and started rolling fresh paint on the wall.

I stood there observing him for a couple more minutes, seeing he had gotten the hang of it over those two days. Knowing he wouldn't need my help with the wall, I looked around, trying to find something useful to do. Lunch was still a while away, but I decided fixing us something to eat was my best option.

"I guess you'll be hungry when you're done," I said as I slowly headed towards the door. "I'll go check if I can make you something nice to eat. Unless you'd like me to stay here instead."

Sander held his paint roll still for a bit as he turned to me. "You don't have to make me anything special, Uncle Rob," he said. "I'm happy with just some sandwiches."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "It's no trouble if you want me to fix you something."

"Well, maybe an omelet, if you've got eggs," Sander suggested. "They don't take much time to make. I'd kinda like it if you stayed with me.

"Omelets are fine with me," I okayed his suggestion. "I'll get all that tape off in the mean time, and…"

Sander then took me off guard, abruptly stopping my train of thoughts. He put his paint roll on the table, came standing right in front of me and beckoned me to stoop down. He looked at me rather seriously, almost pleadingly. "I just want you to be here so we can talk or something," he said. "I want us to be together this week as much as we can."

"I want that too, my sweet little prince," I smiled at him, reaching out to brush his cheek with my finger. "Then I'll just rush downstairs, catch me some crossword puzzle to do and I'll be right back."

I was about to get back up, but Sander stopped me by grabbing my hand. He sighed deeply and then told me what he really wanted. "Wouldn't you like to… you know… stare at me a bit more."

Now that was unexpected. I was perfectly aware that he was enjoying being naked. Up until now I believed that he'd stripped off his clothes just to find out how it felt to walk about with nothing on. Apparently, my presence had something to do with that bold move. Was he perhaps aware that my feelings for him also had something to do with his appearance?

That might complicate things a bit, even though at his tender age, I couldn't imagine him thinking beyond hugs and kisses. I had definitely done my best to hide my physical attraction towards him, even if I did remember moments where I was watching him more closely than I should, like during his first match for Racing, or during our boardgames. I decided to not make too big a deal of what he'd just told me and just humor him. Chances are he was seeking some confirmation about his looks. After all, I'd been able to check him out rather closely while he'd been working on the edges of the wall, and I hadn't even told him if I liked what he looked like or not. I was definitely going to remedy that before he went home. Until then I might as well take him up on his offer, without appearing too interested.

"That doesn't bother you, then?" I asked. "I don't really mean to stare, but it happens anyway."

Sander shook his head and smiled at me. "It was a bit weird at first," he admitted. "But I got kinda used to you looking at me. So if you stay up here with me, I won't mind if you keep watching me."

"I suppose it took some getting used to for me, too," I told him. "It's not like I decorate rooms with a naked little boy helping me. But I'd love to keep you company until you've done painting. If you keep talking to me, I'm pretty sure I should be able to stay focussed long enough without the view distracting me too much."

"He he, okay," the boy giggled.

"I am getting me a chair to sit on, though," I declared as he went back to finish his job. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Yep, okay!" my little friend just replied as I headed out of the room to get the chair from my bedroom, which I use mainly to put my clothes on at night.

A bit later I sat in the corner of the room and watched Sander as he applied paint to the wall. At first, I did scan his body up and down a couple of times, front and back, paying attention to the details. I did manage to keep the conversation, which was mainly about the boy's school and stuff. After a while, when I'd memorized every square inch of his body, I mentally zoomed out to get the entire picture and slowly got used to having him wander about naked in front of me. I loved every bit of him, including his delicate boy bits, but seeing him being so carefree was the most beautiful part of it all. Whenever he did catch me with my eyes a few inches further down his body, he'd simply smile, his cheeks just a tad bit more pink than usual. He couldn't fool me anymore. It was plain to see he liked the attention I gave him, even if it was sometimes directed at the most private parts of his body.

I suppose this is where I could go and describe him inch by inch and put his natural beauty into words. That's not easy to do, but I'll try. You already know his facial features. There's his lovely blonde hair which had grown a bit since I met him only a month ago. I suspected he was letting it grow and it suited him, although it might do with a bit of a trim to even it out and to prevent the bangs of hair in front from blocking his view. There's the blue gem stones that are his eyes, which literature would justly refer to as the mirror to his lively, energetic soul. His little nose stood cutely in the middle of his face and his lips, which had often left a wet patch on my cheek, were most of the time smiling, showing two rows of perfect teeth (one had come out a while ago) and dimpling his healthy rosy cheeks, showing me how happy he was to be with me. From underneath his blonde hair, his little ears slightly stuck out, making the picture of his face nothing short of perfect.

His head stood on a thin, slender neck. His shoulders were frail, but typically those of a young growing boy. His arms were thin and if you looked closely, covered by the finest of downy hairs. His deft hands with ten small fingers always seemed busy and it was a pleasure to hold them in mine. His upper body showed no remainder of baby fat, his chest very nicely shaped, dotted with the smallest of nipples that were only a shade darker than the rest of his nicely tanned body. His 'innie' belly button marked the center of his belly. His body was carried by too slim, smooth looking legs and the cutest of little feet that I still had to test for tickliness. In between those legs was the proof of his masculinity, which looked perfectly proportioned for a boy only a few months shy of ten years old and I was pretty relieved to see his little dickie was still untouched, the way nature intended it to be (I've never approved of circumcision, unless it's done for medical reasons). His little nuggets seemed to have started packing for their trip downwards, but were still clinging nicely to his body inside the sensitive looking fleshy pouch. When facing away from you, it's Sander's bare back that beckons you to be touched, as well as the perfectly round cheeks of what any textbook would describe as a little bubble butt.

My description does not do the boy justice, but there's simply not enough words in English language that fully express the sheer perfection of Sander's body. But it should be enough to explain why I'd been staring. It's hard not to and I believe it to be an insult to the boy if I do not pay attention to every bit of his naked self, which he had so voluntarily offered for me to behold.

It took Sander about an hour to finish painting. He sighed deeply when he finally put the paint roll back on the makeshift table. He turned to inspect his work and seemed really happy with the result. From the corner where I was sitting I had a broader view of the room and liked the combination of the broken white with the one burgundy red wall. I tried to recall what the furniture he'd chosen looked like to picture it inside the room, but couldn't quite remember.

"Looks good, doesn't it," I remarked from where I was sitting.

Sander looked over his shoulder from where he stood and smiled happily. "It'll look even better once the bed and all is in here," he thought forward.

"Definitely," I nodded, loving his positive thinking. "You've done a good job, too. The paint's nicely evened out. By tonight it'll all be dry and ready for further decorating."

"I kinda like doing this kinda stuff," he said. "Now it'll really my room."

"Indeed," I said. "You've earned yourself some bacon with that omelet. And a big hug. Which would you like first?"

With a big grin Sander quickly stepped over to where I was sitting and clambered onto my lap, sideways, and wrapped his arms around my neck. I couldn't help but laugh at his being so direct. I put my right hand on his shoulder and pulled him into me, caressing his arm. My left hand rested on his thigh. With the boy being naked, I had to be careful not to touch him inappropriately. His little boy bits were strictly off limits and for now, so were his buns. Staring is one thing, touching is something totally different. Luckily the lad didn't seem to notice I was holding back.

We sat there like that for about ten minutes, quietly, until I heard Sander's little stomach rumble. He blushed a bit at that, but I simple patted his thigh and smiled at him.

"Getting a bit peckish, huh, my little prince," I said.

"A little," the boy admitted, nodding. "But I don't mind waiting a bit longer. I like it here."

I knew he was referring to our cuddling, so I squeezed his shoulder softly and then planted a kiss on his temple, letting him know I was enjoying it too. Still, lunch hour was approaching and I wanted to have it out of the way, so we would have the entire afternoon to what we wanted.

"I can't have you starving, kiddo," I said softly. I then ran a finger across his chest, provoking some giggles and pointed at the few smudges of burgundy red paint that had found their way onto his bare body. "Why don't you go take a quick refreshing shower, while I get those eggs done."

He looked down at where I was pointing, giggling again when he saw the stains and simply nodded, agreeing to my suggestion. "Do I have to put my clothes back on?" he wanted to know before washing up.

"That's up to you, buddy," I said as I let him get up.

"Okay," he simply nodded, turning around to head to the bathroom.

"Sander," I called out to him as he reached the door.

"Yeah?" he answered, turning sideways and waiting for what I wanted to say.

"I really liked staring at you," I said, hoping he'd understand what I meant.

A broad smile appeared on his lips and his cheeks colored a bit darker, proving that he'd indeed picked up the compliment. He didn't say a word, but that wasn't necessary. Knowing that I liked what he looked like made him happy. He trotted out of the room and two minutes later I heard water washing down from the bathroom. Sighing deeply, the view of Sander's lovely naked body engraved in my memory, I got up from my chair and went downstairs to get lunch ready.

About fifteen minutes later Sander joined me in the kitchen, where I'd just finished preparing our lunches. I'd added a couple of toasts to his omelet and sat out the bottle of ketchup, which I expected him to spray over his omelet (I always do). When he sat down, he attacked his lunch like a hungry tiger, showing me his hard work this morning had given him a healthy appetite. I sat down with him and followed his example, although a bit more slowly.

My little friend had chosen to get his clothes back on, except for the jacket of his tracksuit. He'd combed his hair back neatly and looked really refreshed. Having seen his naked body throughout the morning, I wasn't even disappointed to see him dressed again. He had clearly enjoyed the experience of being without clothes for a while and I had a feeling he would repeat it when the time was right. He knew I was okay with it and even seemed to like me being there to witness it. The knowledge that I'd also liked the view would most likely be an extra incentive to do it again. And as for me: no matter how much I'd liked seeing him naked, an overdose is never good. With some time in between, the next time he'd decide to reveal his little body would be a rediscovery and would probably have me stare at him all over again.

Chapter 6
Saturday Night Fever

The end result was simply marvelous. The color of the furniture, almost black but not quite, matched the walls perfectly. His bed went right next to the door, with the head in the corner of the room. Next to it, he'd set up one of those square blocks, divided in smaller squares, 4 by 4, that held drawers and small closets, where he wanted to put his stuff in. Clearly he was planning to store a few things in the room, for when he would be spending the night at my home, including some spare clothing.

On the other side, in front of the one burgundy red wall he'd put a desk that was empty at the moment. If it would ever happen that I'd have to watch over him on a school night, or just after getting home from school, he would do his homework up there. His grandmother had always told him to get his homework over and done with as soon as he got home and he'd made it a good habit to do so. He wanted to keep that up, even if he was with me, something I could only admire. The rest of the room was still empty, for now, but posters and frames would follow to make it more homely.

We finished the task by Friday, shortly after lunch. Sander had gotten the go ahead from Annie to spend Saturday night with me. So, after the room was done, we simply sat together in the lounge together, making plans for the next day. That day would be pretty much filled with football, because Sander would be playing a tournament and of course, he and his team mates hoped to win it.

Since we had no idea when we'd be back, we decided on a movie night. Sander had mentioned a few titles of movies he wanted to see, mostly Pixar or Disney. I had a few of those lying around and I told him that when we got back on Saturday, he could search through my dvd's, which we'd neatly sorted in the small storage room upstairs, and choose three we could watch.

I sent Sander home around 4 o'clock, with the excuse of grocery shopping I had to do for the weekend. I actually did need a couple of things, mostly snacks like pop corn and ice cream for our movie night and a selection of pop drinks, but I also wanted to get him a bit of a welcome gift. It was my memory of that first dinner at his place that gave me the perfect idea. It was a bit of a guess, but it would make a handy thing to have during his stay. When I got back from shopping, I put Sander welcome gift on the bed I hoped he'd be sleeping in often.

When Saturday finally came, it was hard to tell who was more thrilled about Sander's overnight visit. When my little prince arrived early in the morning, ready to head to the tournament, he was quite jumpy. The moment I opened the door, he dropped his sports bag and leaped into my arms, holding me tightly and showering me with kisses all over my face. Of course I had a clue why he was so excited and it would take more than the usual prematch chat to calm him down a bit. I carried my buddy into the lounge and sat down with him still in my arms and his legs and arms wrapped around me.

I returned his countless kisses with one big kiss on his forehead, rubbing his shoulders. "Now what are you so excited about, huh?" I asked, winking at him, showing that I knew the answer quite well.

He giggled cutely and smiled happily at me. "We're going to have fun, today," he declared. "I finally get to stay with you tonight."

"If I had a room as cool as yours, I would be excited, too, kiddo," I smiled back at him.

"It is a cool room, isn't it," he stated proudly. "Just like my uncle. He's cool, too."

I knew exactly what he meant by that. Sander often made a comment like that, concealing an 'I love you' that always made me feel the happiest man alive. "How can he not be cool, with such a special little boy as his nephew," I answered his love.

"I can't wait till tonight," he said, hugging me once more.

"Patience, my little prince," I replied softly, rubbing his back tenderly. "Time will fly when you're playing football, today. We'll pick up some pizza for dinner and then we're going to have ourselves a wonderful evening, together."

He smiled brightly when he sat back up, kissed me on the cheek again and then got up. He headed for the hallway where he'd left his sports bag. He carried it into the lounge, unzipped it and retrieved a small rectangle frame. He showed it to me and said: "Would it be okay if I put this in my room upstairs?"

'This' was the drawing he'd made when I first told him the room would be his. I thought it was an excellent idea. "Of course it's okay," I told him. "It proves that the room is yours and yours alone. And it's a wonderful drawing, too."

"See, I told you I had a cool uncle," he grinned.

"Silly boy," I chuckled, tickling his sides. "We'll put it up there tonight, after dinner."

"Okay," he giggled, trying to get away (but not really) from my tickling hands. "Are we going?"

I checked the clock and nodded. "Yep. Leave the frame on the living room table. I'm gonna go put my shoes on and then we're off."

Sander climbed off my lap and zipped his sports bag up. "I wonder if we can win the tournament this afternoon," he said as I tied my shoes.

"That depends on who your playing against, I suppose," I answered. "You guys are a good team, though, so why not. Just do your best and you'll see how it turns out."

"I guess," he simply nodded.

"The most important is for you to have fun," I told him, not really knowing what to say.

"Uhuh," he nodded again.

"Now, we'd better get a move on if we don't wanna be late," I said, steering out of the house towards the garage.

About twenty minutes later, I was driving Big Dan (on the passenger's seat), Sander and two of the other kids towards the venue where the tournament was held, some 25 km away from the Racing Doomkerke stadium. The kids chattered amongst one another about tv shows they'd seen and DS games they were playing. Big Dan and I mostly talked about my future position as the coordinator for the youth's teams of Racing. Besides telling me about some of the tasks that would fall onto me, he invited me to the club's staff meeting, come Friday night. I told him I'd be there and asked him if there were any other people on the list of candidates for the position, to which he said, laughing heartily in the way only he can laugh, that I was the list.

Once we arrived out our destination, I pretty much left Sander in the care of Big Dan and some of the other parents who always helped hand out jerseys and such. I was handed a roster with the matches Sander's team would be playing and when. Every team participating had been given a row of tables for the supporters to sit at in between matches. We decided to each throw 15 euros in a hat to pay the drinks and snacks with, during the tournament. It was a rather warm and pleasant day for Belgian spring standards, so beer and pop sodas would flow in abundance. I decided to stick with lemonade, since I'd be driving Sander and his buddies home afterwards, not wanting to risk driving under the influence.

Around lunch time, in between two games, practically everyone was gathered around our table, munching down a small pack of french fries they were selling at a small stand outside. I know it's greasy and unhealthy, but there's very few boys, big or small, who can resist the scent of freshly baked fries. Sander's team had been doing well, winning the first two games rather easily. The third and last match of the preliminary round would decide on what team of the other half of the roster they'd be playing. If they won that one, they'd end up on top and would drawn up against the team winning the other series in a sort of finale to declare the winner of the tournament.

Although they were quite excited about the possibility of playing those finals, the boys seemed to have a great time. In between matches they were given time to have some fun at the playground situated behind the football fields. They'd been playing a game of tag, together with some of the other teams. During lunch, Sander sat with me, quietly eating his fries. That was when a photographer came to our table, asking if we wanted pictures taken of our boys. Those pictures would be sent to one of Racing's officials, which could then be bought for a fair price. Not having any pictures of their kids in their football gear, all parents agreed and thought it to be a nice idea.

So, after finishing our lunch, having enough time left before the third match, we gathered the boys. Obviously knowing his trade, the photographer, a rather kind man in his late thirties, showed us to a good spot for the pictures. One by one, the boys posed for their pictures, hunched down on one knees, their hands on a ball in front of them and smiling brightly. That must have been the first moment of the day when I allowed myself to really look at Sander. Of course I already knew very well he was a handsome kid, but once in a while I couldn't help but let my attraction towards him get the upper hand. While he posed for his picture, the idea of me having some pictures of him formed in the back of my mind. So, after all boys had struck their poses for their pictures, I went to talk with the photographer.

"Excuse me, sir," I beckoned for him. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure," the man said, looking around, checking if he'd had every team present.

"Would it be any trouble to take pictures of one of the kids during their next game?" I asked.

"No trouble at all, sir," the man assured me. "It'd be nice to be doing something else besides portrait photos."

"Great," I said gratefully.

"Any special occasion you want the pictures for then?" the photographer asked.

"I want to surprise the boy's grandmother," I fibbed, although that idea wasn't so bad. "She can never make it to his matches because she tutors some kids on Saturdays. I think she'd like to see pictures of him playing."

"I bet she'll like that," the man nodded understandingly. "I can put them in a nice album, if you'd like that."

"That's be nice," I said.

The photographer then reached in his breast pocket and fished out a calling card. "This is my card," he said. "Call me later this week for an appointment, so we can discuss how you'd like it done."

"Okay, thanks," I answered, briefly glancing at his card. "I'll bring Sander along. I'm pretty sure he'd like to have a say in it, since it's his grandmother we're surprising."

"Perfect," the man said. "You're his father, then?"

"His uncle," I told him, lying again, but not really, since Sander calls me his Uncle Rob. "The boy's parents passed away when he was little. His grandmother's been raising him and I help out where I can."

"Okay. So, which boy is it?" he then asked as we reached the pitch where Sander would be playing his next game.

"Number 8," I said, pointing at Sander who had his back to us, lining up for a warmup exercise.

"Cute kid," the photographer said. "I'll do my best to get a few good shots of him."

"Thanks," I nodded and then walked over to where the rest of the Racing supporters were.

Throughout the match I followed the photographer with my eye, watching him aim his camera at Sander the whole time. He was definitely doing a thorough job. I hadn't even noticed him calling my little prince cute earlier, but I didn't make much of it. Even if there's no attraction to speak of, I think lots of people recognize a good-looking boy when they see one. A photographer, having seen many during this kind of events, has probably seen many to be some sort of an expert. Anyway, after the match was done, Racing coming out victorious again, although a bit less convincing, the man held his thumb up to me and I waved back at him, thanking him for his business. I admit I was pretty curious about the pictures. What I hadn't expected was that Sander had actually noticed the man taking the pictures.

"Why was the photographer taking pictures of me?" he asked as we walked towards the entrance of the cafeteria where the board with results sat.

"I thought it would be nice if we had some pictures of you playing for your grandmother," I explained. "Mother's Day's coming up soon, if I'm not mistaken. It might be a nice present."

"Oh, cool," he smiled. "You should have told me."

"Yeah, maybe," I admitted. "But I only got the idea after he made your portraits earlier. Besides, I think you might have paid too much attention to him during the match."

"I guess," he shrugged and then looked at the board. "Hey, we made it to the finals. We could actually win this."

"Yeah, well done, buddy," I said, giving his shoulder a complimentary squeeze. "I'll be rooting for you extra hard during the final match."

And I did, too, if that was at all possible. It was necessary, too, because the adversaries for the finals were a tougher team than the ones they'd played against so far. I had seen Mark's nationals play once and these kids didn't come too far from that level. But, having become a bit of a leader on the field, his skills had improved since he joined Racing and his confidence had grown visibly. Advised by Mark, Big Dan had positioned Sander in the center, as a playmaker, a role that fit Sander remarkably well. It was no secret Mark wanted to cram my little buddy for the next season, where he hoped Sander would play for his team, at the national level. I had confidence in Sander taking that leap of faith, next summer, after having fully integrated with the team by then.

The match itself went up and down and was quite tight. The only real difference between Racing and the other team was that Racing seemed to be more attuned to each other, whereas the opponents bulked in individual skill. That resulted in the match in a feverish last five minutes, where each team tried hard to find that one gap in the defense of the opposing team. And, I don't want to brag, but it was my Sander who found that gap.

The ball had gone out of bounds for a throw in. Sander was wide open to receive the throw in. He skillfully controlled the ball, faced his direct opponent and then spotted Simon, his team mate on the left flank sprinting towards the baseline. Sander passed the ball to Simon, dragged his opponent with him and then pivoted on his quick feet, launching himself in the opposite direction. Simon had been paying close attention to Sander's actions and quickly noticed that his quick change of direction had left his opponent stranded. Simon passed the ball to the second post where Sander was wide open, knocking the ball into the back of the net with a sounding header. And with only three more minutes on the clock, that header clinched the match and the tournament in Racing's favor.

So, when the end whistle blew, everyone in the yellow and purple of Racing sprinted towards Sander, jumping him and practically burying him under the pitch, cheering him for winning the trophy for them. All Racing supporters -parents, grandparents and other relatives present- clapped their hand and congratulated the team for their wonderful achievement. Big Dan himself pretty much choked every one of his players in a big hug, just as overjoyed with the win as his boys. I was a bit more calm in my joy, waiting for the right moment to walk up to Sander, lift him up and holding him tightly in a loving big bear hug.

"I'm so proud of you, my little prince," I whispered in his ear while I held him.

Sander smiled broadly at me and then kissed me on the cheek a couple of times. "We did it, uncle Rob," he said cheerfully. "We won!"

"You sure did, buddy," I nodded, smiling back, putting him back down on his feet. "You were awesome out there. Now go on and celebrate with your mates."

"Yep," Sander chimed and ran off to where the Racing boys were happily dancing and jumping around.

Big Dan came to me as I observed my little friend probably having one of the best days of his young life. "That's the first time my boys have won something like this," he confessed to me. "Your boy's bringing the best out off the others, somehow."

I was about to correct him for calling Sander 'my boy', but I decided to let it slide. "And the other way around," I answered. "Joining this team was the best thing that could have happened to him."

"That's your doing, Uncle Rob," Sander's coach smirked. "Can I call you that? It kinda sounds nice."

"I think that title comes with the job, doesn't it," I laughed, having found a good friend in Big Dan.

"I don't know about that," Dan smiled. "What I do know, is that the other boys are referring to you as Uncle Rob, ever since Sander told you you were his uncle. They all agree that you're a cool guy. Mark's done a great job applying you for our new coordinator."

"I had doubts about that, but when I see those kids having a ball out there, I know who I'll be doing it for," I said. "There's no greater reward. And now, since I seem to have the job even before a vote is cast, I'd better go buy our little champs a drink."

"Finally you get why we really hired you. Free drinks!" Big Dan joked as he walked over to the boys.

I laughed out loud at Dan's teasing and then walked inside the cafeteria to get coupons for the boys. Outside, the president of the organizing club called the team to the front and handed them a rather fancy looking trophy. Parents and people from the local newspaper took group pictures of the kids, with their trophy standing proudly in front of them. They then walked off the pitch towards the locker rooms to get showered and changed. I decided to sit down at our table to wait for them. Big Dan and most of the boys' dads joined me a minute later, leaving the kids to take care of themselves, with a few of the mothers staying with them to make sure they didn't go and wreck the place.

We stayed there for about an hour, letting the boys play outside after they'd picked their drinks or snacks. We chatted about all kinds of things until some of the kids announced that they were getting a bit hungry. Dinner time was closing in, so we decided to call it a day and gathered our belongings to head home. After dropping Big Dan and the other two boys, who'd carpooled with Sander, and me off, we headed back to my place, stopping at a pizza parlor to get our dinner.

It probably doesn't need to be told, but during dinner, Sander couldn't stop talking about how much fun he'd had at the tournament and how cool it was that he and his team had won. Of course, with his team mates out of ear range, he dared boasting about him being the one scoring the winning goal, as well. The smaller, 5 inch version of the trophy every player had been awarded stood proudly in the center of the table and would find a place of honor in his new room upstairs, after showing it to his grandmother and telling her the entire story. When our pizzas had been completely devoured, I decided it was the right moment to give Sander his welcome gift.

"Why don't you go and put that frame up on the wall, upstairs," I suggested, reminding him of the drawing he'd framed to decorate his room with. "I'll clean up here and then we can start our movie night."

"Okay," Sander nodded, getting up from his chair.

"There's a hammer and a box of wall hooks in the garage," I told him. "Just be careful not to hit your fingers."

"I won't," the boy promised as he headed for the garage to get the tools.

After finding what he needed, Sander headed upstairs, carrying the frame up to his room. Of course it was the thumping of a hammer on a nail I heard a minute later. The package containing my little friend's welcome gift was large enough to immediately catch his attention. So, only two minutes later Sander reappeared in the kitchen, wrapped in a brand new, burgundy red bath robe. On his feet he was wearing a pair of fluffy slippers, made like one of those Pokémon characters that are so popular these days.

"Is this for me?" he asked as he stood before me, rubbing his hands over the soft material of his new robe.

"Well, I think it's a tad bit small for me," I replied jokingly. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's nice," he nodded. He then walked over to me and wrapped his arms around me. "You really don't have to buy so much stuff, uncle Rob," he said.

"I know, buddy," I replied, running my fingers through his lovely blonde hair. "But I thought one of those might come in handy for when you're staying over. I want you to be comfortable when you're here."

"I really like it," Sander said again, fiddling with the rope around his slim waist.

"I'm glad you do," I smiled. I then lifted him up and sat him on the counter, ready to tell him the real purpose of his new bath robe. "Actually, I got you this because I don't want you to catch a cold when you're down here in your pajamas."

"But, I don't wear any pajamas," he quickly reminded me. "You know I sleep with no clothes on."

"Exactly," I winked.

For a couple of seconds he looked at me as if I'd turned mad, but then he understood what I was telling him. His pondering look turned into a big grin. He leapt of the counter and left the kitchen, bounding back up the stairs. I stood there for about a minuted, wondering what the kid was unto, until he returned into the kitchen.

"Is this for me?" he repeated the question he'd asked me not five minutes ago. And just like before, he also rubbed his hands over the cloth of his new bath robe.

It was odd to see him replay the scene, but it didn't take me long to realize why. From underneath his bathroom, I could see his bare knees and calves, where before he'd been wearing the purple pants of his Racing track suit. He'd clearly understood the message I'd sent him during our talk about pajamas earlier. He didn't have to untie the ribbon for me to know he was now naked underneath his new garment. Instead of waiting for my answer and probably wanting to avoid my silly 'too small for me' remark, he ran into me and wrapped his little arms around me.

"I take it you really like it," I said, caressing his head.

"Uhuh, yeah," Sander nodded, smiling up at me. "Now, can we go watch those movies?"

"Of course, buddy. Go ahead and get one started," I told him. "I'll bring some snacks and stuff."

"Cool!" my little friend cheered, heading for the lounge.

While I was getting popcorn and crisps out off the kitchen cabinet and a bottle of Coke from the fridge, I heard Sander turn on the tv. When I joined him in the lounge, he was trying to find his way around the dvd player. I let him handle things at his own pace, knowing that in this day and age, any kid knew how to get a dvd running. In the meantime, I decided to turn of the big lights and switch on the small lamp standing on a small table in the corner of the lounge. In the half dark, I saw Sander had found the right buttons. He selected one of the Shrek movies, put it in the player and then maneuvered himself right next to me on the couch. I handed him the remote, let him hit play, so our movie night could get started.

Having played football throughout most of the day and the celebrations after his team's win in the tournament, it was clear that three movies had been a very ambitious plan. The movie hadn't been playing too long before I noticed Sander wouldn't last long before getting sleepy. He'd put his little feet, still wrapped in his Pokémon slippers, up on the couch. He'd put his head against my shoulder at first, with my arm around his shoulder to allow him to snuggle up close to me, but it hadn't taken long before he'd decided lying down with his head in my lap was a lot more comfortable. My arm was now draped over him with my hand on his shoulder.

Not an hour into the movie I noticed Sander had abandoned the snacks and had become really quiet. His breathing had slowed down a bit and he barely moved a muscle. Obviously sleep had snuck upon him, steeling him from what was supposed to be a night of staying up late. I didn't mind, though. Even his presence was enough to make me the happiest man alive. I decided to sit through the rest of the movie, so he would be fast asleep when I carried him up to his room.

Half an hour later I carried my sleepy little prince up the stairs, careful not to wake him. When I reached his new bedroom, the door still open, I pulled back his brand new sheets and gently laid him down. It was only when I tucked him in that I realized he was still wearing his robe. For a second I thought about taking it off him, knowing he prefers to sleep with nothing on. I decided against it, though, thinking it would be better to leave that up to him. Taking of the single piece of clothing myself felt too much like taking advantage of the situation. I was pretty sure that somewhere during the night, Sander would sense the change in environment and make himself comfortable. So, I simply bowed down over his little head and kissed him goodnight. Even if it was only a simple gesture, it was something I knew I'd love doing whenever my little friend spends the night at my place. Most of all, I was very happy to see how quickly he felt at home with me.

With Sander safe and sound in his bed, I left his room and headed downstairs to clean up whatever mess we'd made. I then sat back down on the couch to watch the football match reports (my team's way down on the bottom of the table) and to relax a bit. About an hour after I'd put Sander to bed, I headed upstairs myself, calling it a day. The best day ever, all thanks to that wonderful little boy sleeping soundly in the room next to mine. As I lay down in bed, reminiscing about the day, it almost felt as a dream.

When I woke up somewhere during the night, still much too early for a Sunday, I found that the dream was still going on. There was only a dim light coming in through the curtains from the street lights, but that was more than sufficient to be able to see that the left side of my bed, which was usually empty, held a small figure. It even took me a couple of seconds, but when I realized that somewhere during the night, Sander had snuck into my room and into my bed. His left arm was draped over the sheets, with the dim light reflecting on the smooth skin of his bare shoulder. My little prince had indeed made himself comfortable, having left his bathrobe behind and finding his way into my bed. Seeing his small form next to me brought a smile upon my face and I knew that when dawn came, I would be greeted with the most wonderful sight a man can wake up next to.

It was about two hours later, around 7 o'clock, when I was woken by some movement next to me. I opened my eyes, this time to a room lit with the first rays of spring sun seeping through the thin curtains. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the light and when they did, I saw Sander doing creeping out of bed, doing his best to be quiet and not to wake me. He'd pulled a corner of the covers back and sat upright, slipping his legs out of the bed. Before getting up, he turned back and blushed when he noticed I was awake.

"Oops," he said apologetically. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"'s Okay, buddy," I smiled at him. "Getting up already? It's still pretty early."

"I gotta go pee," he explained.

"Better go, then," I yawned, stretching out on the bed.

Swiftly, Sander crawled out off bed, naked as the day he was born. To reach the bathroom, he first had to walk around the bed, with the door being on the other side of the room. He probably wasn't aware of it, but his tour around the bed gave me the opportunity to get reacquainted with his bare body. I know I'd already seen him naked during the last day of painting, but because a few days had passed since then, today felt like the first time. My conclusion was the same as the other day, though: my little prince is an incredibly beautiful little boy.

When he returned to the bedroom, after his morning visit to the bathroom, Sander seemed to be a bit more awake. The big grin on his face when he saw me following him walk into the room and around the bed to reclaim his spot next to me told me he was at least more aware of his being naked.

"You were staring again," he said as he covered himself up again.

"Well, it's not often that a small boy walks around my bedroom naked on a Sunday morning," I smiled, knowing my staring didn't bother him.

"It might happen more often, from now on," Sander said, turning on his side.

"I could get used to that," I replied. "So, what happened to that cool room of yours? Tired of it already?"

"Nah," my little friend answered, shaking his head. "I woke up in the middle of the night to get a drink of water and I kinda felt like getting in bed with you after that. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not, sweetie," I reassured him. I reached out to him and pulled him closer to me, allowing him to snuggle up against me. Luckily I was wearing pajamas, because I would have made a very close contact with his naked body, if I wasn't. "You're free to do whatever you feel like, here," I said as he put his head on my shoulder.

"Cool," he replied.

"So, if you want to get in bed with me, just do it," I told him. "On one condition."

"What's that?" Sander wanted to know.

"No getting up before 8 o'clock. This is Sunday, I sleep in on Sundays," I explained.

"He he, okay, I won't," my little prince promised. "I don't want to get up early anyway."

"That's settled, then," I said, caressing his arm, which was draped over my chest. "So, why don't we try and catch a few more z's before getting the day going, okay?"

"Yep," Sander agreed, nodding.

To show me he really agreed to my terms, he snuggled up as close as he could and shuffled back and forth to get comfy. I continued caressing his arm until I felt his breathing slow down again. Apparently he was still a bit sleepy, like me, although in my case, lazy is the right word for it. Somehow I think Sander just wanted to make this cozy moment between us to last as long as possible.

I only managed to sleep about half an hour longer after that. There's days when you don't want to wake up from a dream, but this particular Sunday morning, the real thing was much better than the dream. Sander was still sound asleep, his little body practically glued to me. I decided to stay put until he woke up again and to enjoy the feeling of his body hit against me. Careful not to wake him, I shuffled backward to be able to lean against the head of the bed. Making sure my maneuver hadn't woken my little prince, I relaxed and then gently brushed the loose strands of his blonde hair past his ear.

It was only fifteen minutes later when Sander stirred in his sleep. He opened his eyes, adjusting to the daylight. Briefly he looked up at, smiled warmly when he noticed I was awake. Slowly he turned on to his back and then copied me by sitting upright against the head of the bed.

"Good morning, sweetie," I greeted him.

"Hey, uncle Rob," he yawned, stretching out. "Is it still to early?"

"A bit, but we can't stay in bed forever, now, can we," I said.

"He he, no, we can't," my little friend giggled cutely. "But I wouldn't mind if we stayed here just a bit longer."

"I'd like that too," I smiled. "What would like for breakfast, later on?"

"Dunno," Sander just shrugged. "Have you got any cereal?"

"Yeah, I think I have some," I said. "Are you sure you don't want me to fix you something else?"

"Nah, cereal's cool," the boy shook his head. "You're already doing so much for me."

"That's because I love you so much," I said, thinking it sounded a bit cheesy.

But cheesy wasn't a problem for Sander. He smiled at me and then slipped out from under the sheets and crawled over me, straddling me and wrapping his thin arms around me in a big hug. He leaned forward and planted a wet kiss on my lips. "I love you, too," he then said as he looked me in the eyes.

I embraced the boy and pulled him back into me. Clearly Sander was in the mood for a Sunday morning cuddle and I was not going to disappoint him. As I held him, I caressed his bare back. The soft, smooth skin of his back felt heavenly and the humming escaping Sander's throat told me I was doing a good job. I didn't dare let my hands wander further down, though, afraid that touching his buns was a bit too risky.

"Feels nice," Sander softly whispered, taking me off guard a bit.

"You like that, huh," I answered just as quietly. "I can do this all day, too."

"Uncle Rob?" he then said, a bit hesitant.

"Yes, buddy?" I replied, curious about what was on his mind, holding my hands still near his lower back.

"You can rub my behind, too," he said as if it was the most common of things. "I mean, if you want too."

Apparently, the limits I had set for myself didn't match the ones he had in mind. Even though I strongly believed that the meaning of letting someone touch your posterior was different for the two of us, I had to be careful not to tread on thin ice. "Are you sure, kiddo?"

Sander raised himself up a bit to be able to look right at me and nodded. "Uhuh. I really like the way it feels when you rub my back like that. So I think it'll be nice when you do my butt, too."

By the way he looked so hopeful at me, I knew it would be wrong to deny him his wish. I decided to take my chance and give him the benefit of the doubt, thinking that letting me rub his butt had no sexual meaning to him. In the end, he might not have taken it well if I refused. A talk about setting boundaries would follow in case he ever asked for something more delicate than rubbing his butt.

So, on this particular Sunday morning, I found myself in my bed with the most amazing little boy lying on top of me, his head resting on my shoulder. My hands glided over the back of his bare body, from the top of his shoulders, down the smoothness of his back and then following the curves of his incredibly soft and supple butt cheeks. From the first moment my hands came in contact with my little prince's perfectly shaped mounds of boy flesh, I was addicted. It wasn't long before I let my hands linger on his butt, drawing circles with the palm of my hand, now and then giving his two cheeks a gently squeeze and letting my finger tips roam over the crevice.

Sander had giggled when he felt my hands on his buns the first time, telling me it felt a bit funny, but more or less forbidding me to stop. Soon, he was humming and purring again, clearly enjoying the touch. I knew then that he was just as hooked as I was. I also realized that the day when his curiosity would go beyond me rubbing his behind might be coming sooner than expected. That's when I would have to be strong of mind and heart and tell him that this was as far as I was willing to go, even if my own heart told me different. Because I would be lying if taking things a notch up wasn't on my mind. Fortunately, I was able to keep reminding myself about how lucky I was for haven such a wonderful boy in my otherwise empty life and that it was not worth it to lose him.

After about ten minutes of cuddling and running my hands all over his backside, Sander raised himself up again. He smiled down at me and then planted another wet kiss on my lips.

"Getting hungry?" I guessed as I brushed some hair away from his face.

"A bit," he admitted.

"Why don't you go wash up a bit, then," I suggested. "I'll go downstairs and get your breakfast ready."

"Okay," he simply agreed.

Sander then rolled off me. I followed his maneuver closely and when he ended up on his back next to me, evidence that he'd really enjoyed the cuddling came into view, which drew my attention. When Sander realized what I was looking at, he blushed a deep red and moved to cover up his erection. I felt a bit guilty for making him feel a bit embarrassed about his little predicament. Before his hand could hide his privates, I gently laid a hand on his wrist and smiled reassuringly at him.

"You're a beautiful boy, little prince," I told him in a soft voice and then gave him a loving kiss on his forehead. "You have no reason to be shy about anything."

Sander allowed me to move his hand away again. "I thought you might think bad about me for… you know… "

As he looked down at what he wasn't comfortable calling by name, I brushed a strand of his hair away from his face. "For your dickie being hard? Or what do you call it when it's like this?"

"A stiffie," Sander simply said.

"Well, you're a boy, Sander," I continued. "It's perfectly natural for you to have a stiffie every now and then. There's nothing bad about it."

"Really?"

"Really," I nodded, kissed him on the cheek and then got up. "I'm gonna get your breakfast ready, now. You go and freshen up a bit."

"Okay," he smiled, happy as before, his embarrassment flushed away.

I followed Sander out off the bedroom and headed downstairs to get his order of breakfast cereal served, while he crossed the landing into the bathroom. In the kitchen, I made myself some fresh coffee and fixed me a chocolate paste sandwich. When I sat down at the table, stirring some sugar into my cup, the picture of my little friend lying in bed next to me with his dickie pointing up formed in the back of my head. I wondered if I'd handled everything okay and also realized that the awkward moment might only be the first in many.

I found it a bit reassuring that Sander hadn't linked my rubbing his butt with his getting a stiffie. Yet… That might still happen if there'd be more of those cuddly Sunday mornings in the future, which I really hoped there would be. Waking up with my little prince right next to me was the best I could ever dream of. The fact that it had been his choice to spend the second half of his night beside me showed me that he somehow needed to be close to me and he knew I would never push him away.

I did hope his curiosity about feeling my hands on his body didn't go beyond what happened this morning. Then again, it might be a rather small step for him to figure out that maybe it might feel nice to be touched 'down there' as well. I dreaded the moment where I would have to tell him 'No' when he asked me to do that. Not just because I knew a rejection like that would hurt him, but most of all, because it will not be easy to say 'No'. As I told him earlier, he is beautiful. That includes that part of him that makes him a boy, and my attraction towards boys, him in particular, would make it difficult to resist.

I know Sander's not the kind of person who'd take 'No' for an answer if he ever popped the question. At least not with a sounding explanation as to why I won't touch him 'down there'. That explanation might not come easy. A simple 'I cannot do that' won't suffice. He'll want to know why not. In the end, I might even have to make a confession to him that I didn't want to make, at least not just yet. I don't think he'd take it well if I told him I was actually head over heels with him and that I actually do want to touch him 'down there'. I do know that one day I will have to be honest with him, even if that might be the end of our friendship.

While I was pondering over all that, Sander walked into the kitchen. He'd put his bathrobe over his shoulders but hadn't bothered tying the ribbon to cover up his naked body. I winked at him when he sat down at the table, letting him know I was rather happy to see him behave so freely around me. He smiled back and then checked the selection of cereal I'd set out. I always buy those small packages, so they won't go stale in the cupboard. He made his choice, poured the contents into his bowl, added milk and started munching down his breakfast.

I'd already finished breakfast when he arrived so I couldn't help but observe him. We started chit chatting about silly things like tv shows and so on. He ate slowly, clearly wanting to make his visit last as long as possible. When he finally drank the last of his milk, he put his bowl down and then got up, walked over to me and wrapped his little arms around me.

"I wish I could stay here," he sighed as he held me.

"I would like that too, buddy," I said, hugging him closely. "I'm pretty sure there'll be more days when we can be together. I know that when I take you home, I'll be counting the days until you're with me again."

"You mean that?" Sander asked, briefly loosening his hold to look me right in the eye..

"You bet," I smiled, softly caressing his face. "I really like having you with me."

"Yeah, me too," my little buddy sighed, melting into me again. "Do we have some time left before I have to go?"

"Sure, there's no rush," I said. "Anything you'd like to do?"

He leaned further into me and put his lips to my ear and whispered: "Can we cuddle a bit more?"

He looked right at me again, hopefully, blushing a bit. Knowing Sander to be a boy who craved for some affection, I could not deny him his request. Besides, cuddling with my little prince is something I could never get enough of. Of course I also realized Sander had made the suggestion because he'd enjoyed my rubbing his bare backside, earlier, and that he simply wanted me to make him feel just as good again.

Without saying a word, I simply smiled at him, got up and extended my hand for him to hold it. He took my hand and allowed me to lead him to the couch where I sat down, with him standing before me. I beckoned for him to climb onto my lap. He smiled brightly, knowing that I was indeed inviting him for another round of cuddling, he straddled me. Before he sat down, I pushed his robe back so it wouldn't get trapped underneath his little butt. With his robe now draped over his back and my knees, he shuffled back and forth to get comfortable. With his bathrobe wide open, I had a full view of his wonderful body. Even though I'd been seeing his naked body practically all morning, every time I allowed myself to really look at him, it felt like discovering his natural given beauty over and over again.

"You sure like looking at me, Uncle Rob," Sander simply said.

Calling my attention with his voice, I looked him right in the eye and smiled admiringly at him. "I can't help it, my little prince," I apologized. "I just can't believe what an amazing boy you are."

Sander blushed a deep red, briefly glancing down his naked self. Understanding that my staring felt awkward to him, I reached behind him and let my hands slip underneath the robe that now hang on his frail shoulders like a cape. My fingertips met his bare back and slowly traveled up to his shoulders. Once there, I gently pulled the small boy into me, holding him close to me and tenderly caressing caressing his back.

Sander sighed deeply when he felt my hands on his delicate skin and melted into me completely. At first, I only rubbed his back, but soon I let my hands slide down the small of his back and over his smooth, perfectly shaped butt cheeks. Purring like a kitten, Sander let me do as I pleased and clearly enjoyed every second of it. I did too, even if I had to fight back the urge to take things up a notch. I had made a vow to myself to not go beyond what I was doing now, and I had no intention to break that vow.

Sander and I stayed in that position for quite a while. I had been holding still on his little butt for a couple of minutes, gently squeezing his butt cheeks every now and then. Probably wondering why I'd stopped rubbing his backside, my little friend sat upright, smiling happily at me. Of course that meant I got to see his naked form again, with his little dickie sticking up between his thighs.

This time, instead of covering up like he did before, he just giggled cutely, blushing and declared: "My thingy's all hard again."

I smiled, happy to see having an erection didn't bother him anymore. "I thought I'd felt something poking my belly."

"Why does it get like that?" the boy asked.

Knowing that this might be heading for one of those typical birds-and-bees talk, I had to be careful with how I answered his innocent little question. This would be the moment where I would have to tell him to ask his grandmother if it's okay for me to discuss that rather particular matter, or, ask her myself later on. Still, I couldn't send him home without an answer.

"Well, as I said before, you're a boy," I started carefully. "It's perfectly natural. I suppose it happened today because you enjoyed our cuddling."

"Will I get a stiffie every time we cuddle, then?" was his follow up question. "Because I really liked it and I hope we can do it lots more."

"Hehe, probably not, buddy," I told him. "I think you got a stiffie more because of how you're dressed and where my hands were when we were cuddling."

"You mean because I'm naked and you were rubbing my behind?" he asked. "Then I will get stiffies a lot. It feels great and I want you to do it again, next time I get to spend the night."

"I can't say no to that," I smiled, reached up to rub his shoulder. "Besides, I'm starting to really like your behind."

"Hehe, silly," he giggled and then showed me his trademark mischievous grin. He climbed off my lap, turned around and then flicked his bathrobe off his shoulders. He leaned forward a tad bit and wiggled his bare butt right in front of me, looking over his shoulder, chanting naughtily: "Uncle likes my bu-utt!! Uncle likes my bu-utt!!"

His antics had me laughing out loud and I thought it was amazing to see he was so liberal with his naked body. I never hid the fact that I liked what he looks like and I believe that makes him show off the way he's doing now. I take it as a sense of pride over his body. Pride that's not misplaced, because he really does look stunning. His little buns going back and forth right now, for example, was a sight I could look at pretty much all day long. But that might get a bit boring for Sander and the naughty nature of his current actions told me he wanted to play. So, after allowing myself a few moments to enjoy the view, I did the first thing that came to my mind.

"Uncle does like your butt," I laughed. I reached out with both hands and started playfully slapping his buns, adding: "It makes for excellent little bongo drums.

The little imp yelped as he felt the slaps. He let forward to get out of my reach, turning around with a silly giggle. "Hey, you can't do that," he whined, trying to sound offended, the big grin on his darling little face telling me this was exactly the kind of playing he had in mind. His little boyhood still betrayed his excitement, as well.

"Why not? It's fun and it sounds superb," I said, trying to grab him.

Sander jumped away again, so I had to get up from the couch if I ever wanted to continue my bongo drum concert. It was the start of a wild chase around the house, with my little prince deftly avoiding my grabbing arms and outsmarting me by climbing over or crawling under the furniture. This went on for almost a quarter of an hour and it was really fun. Sander's constant laughter was intoxicating and it was heaven to see him enjoy himself so much. I think along the way, he even forgot that he was running about the house stark naked.

Our game of chase ended when Sander decided to move the chase upstairs. Not a smart move, because when he entered his bedroom, I was able to trap him in the corner where his bed stood. When he realized he'd made a mistake, he begged for mercy. But I was not about to let him off so easily, after having me run after him like that… So, when his legs bumped into the bed, I launched myself forward, grabbed him and flipped him onto the bed and went straight for the armpits.

More giggles followed when I tickled him all over as he did his very best to fight me off. Every time he managed to block one ticklish spot, I quickly found another, and believe me when I say that there aren't many spots on his body that aren't sensitive to tickling. During the chase, his little dickie had gone down a bit, but the tickle fest also brought that part of his body back to life. I didn't pay much attention to it, though, not wanting to ruin my little buddy's fun.

After a couple of minutes, Sander held out his hands in surrender, begging be to stop. His face had gone all red and flushy and our little bout of rough housing had clearing left him breathless. I was actually starting to feel sorry for him, but the big happy grin on his face as he laid sprawled on the bed eased my worries. I sat myself down at the foot of the bed and smiled back at him. For some reason, we both realized at the same time that with the end of our playtime, the end of his overnight visit was also coming near.

"I now know how a farmer must feel when he has to catch piggies that break loose," I winked at him, patting his thigh.

"Hey, I'm no piggy," Sander quickly reacted. And to prove his point, he got on his hands and knees, with his butt practically in my face and said: "See, no curly tail!"

"Okay, you're not a piggy," I chuckled, giving his little butt a few playful slaps. "Piggies are a lot harder to catch and I don't think they'd like tickling that much."

My little prince turned around and sat down on his knees. He crawled closer to me and game me a quick hug, before looking right at me with a big smile. "That was fun, uncle Rob," he said. "No one's ever played with me like that."

It didn't take rocket science to understand what he meant. With only his grandmother around, it's easy to comprehend how much the boy's missed having someone to do those things boys like to do. I was more than happy to fill that void, especially because I quickly discovered it was just as much fun for me.

I brushed a finger over his cheek and said: "I'm sorry to hear that, my little prince. But now you know who to look for when you want someone to chase after you or something."

"Uhuh, yep," Sander nodded joyfully. "You're gonna have to get faster if you ever want to catch me, though, you slowpoke."

"Slowpoke? Me?" I asked, trying to sound offended but failing miserably. "Those are tough words for someone who begged me for mercy only five minutes ago." I then stabbed his sides with a finger, knowing he was very ticklish there, saying: "If you want another round of tickling, you only have to ask, love."

Sander backed away from my prying fingers, giggling cutely. "Meanie!" he retorted.

I winked at him and said: "Don't worry, kiddo, I'll save it for later. But I will get you back for that slowpoke remark, that's a promise."

"Phew!" he sighed dramatically. "I don't think I would have survived more tickling, right now."

"Probably not," I chuckled. "And I bet I haven't even found every ticklish spot on you, yet."

"Hehe, I don't know," my buddy giggled, briefly glancing down at himself. That look reminded him of his current state of dress. With the excitement of our playtime gone, his dickie had gone back to its normal state.

"You do look comfy like that, kiddo," I remarked.

"You mean, with no clothes on?" he guessed. "It just feels nice like this. It's not bad, is it? I mean, to like being naked."

"Not at all, buddy," I reassured him. "I think it's part of who you are. You're a free spirit. I like that about you and it makes me happy to see you dare to be yourself with me."

"I best not tell granny about it, though," Sander then said, worrying about his grandmother's reaction.

"I don't know, buddy," I answered. "You shouldn't keep secrets from your grandmother, though."

"So you think I should tell her?" my little friend wanted to be sure.

"I don't see why not, kiddo," I shrugged. "That way you can find out if she's okay with or not."

"Maybe," Sander still doubted. He then looked up at me with a big grin and said: "But I'm leaving out the part where you rub my butt. I don't want her to know about that."

"Hehe, okay, sonny," I snickered. I patted his inner thigh a couple of times, saying: "I'm afraid it's time for you to get ready to go home, now."

"Oh, already?" Sander complained.

"If I take you home in time, like I promised your grandmother, she might let you stay with me again, soon," I explained.

"Okay, then," the boy gave in. "I can't wait till I get to come over again."

"Me neither, my little prince," I smiled. I leaned over to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Put your clothes on, now, sweetie. I'll wait for you downstairs."

"Okay," Sander obeyed, getting up from the bed to reach for his clothes, which he'd left on the chair by his desk. Before I headed out of his room, he called out to me. "Uncle Rob?"

"Yes, kiddo?" I replied, turning around, wondering what was on his mind.

He stood by the desk with his shirt in his hand, ready to cover up his nakedness. "Do you really think I'm beautiful?" he practically whispered.

I studied his nude body one last time and knew then I was totally smitten the boy. "You are the most beautiful boy I've ever met," I told him, not sure if he realized how I really felt about him.

Sander just smiled broadly and then giggled as he slipped his shirt over his head. I left him to his getting dressed and headed downstairs. I wasn't sure, but somehow I knew I would have to reveal my real feelings for him sooner than I'd expected. Hopefully, that revelation wouldn't jeopardize our friendship, because I didn't want to lose him. But that's something I could only find out when that time comes.

Ten minutes later Sander and I crossed the street to his home, where Annie was dutifully preparing a lovely Sunday lunch. During lunch, Sander did most of the talking, thrilled about winning the tournament and about our evening together. He didn't mention his slipping into my bed during the night, or me chasing after his naked butt, but I guessed that he wanted to keep that for after I'd gone back home.

After lunch, I helped do the dishes and talked a bit with his grandmother. I thanked her for letting Sander spend the day with me and told her I'd really enjoyed having him with me. She seemed happy to hear that and promised me that she would allow her grandson to spend the night with me in the near future. I thanked her again, silently hoping that the she wouldn't change her mind after Sander told her the rest of the story.

I went home around two o'clock. I gave Sander a last big hug before heading home and told him he was always welcome to drop by at my place. Sander smiled happily at me and then waved me goodbye from his doorstep, watching me until I turned around the corner. It was the conclusion of a weekend I would never forget.

Back at home, I went up the stairs to clean up Sander's room, finding his trophy on his desk. He'd left a little note with it, saying: "This trophy is for you, Uncle Rob. Being your little prince is the best prize I could wish for. I love you. Sander."

I was almost in tears when I read the note. Such big words for such a small boy, but I knew they came from his heart. I took the trophy downstairs, put it on the mantelpiece where everyone could see it and put the note in a small frame next to it. I couldn't wait to put Sander's picture up, so I could look at it all day long, and dream of the fun we were still to have.

NEXT PART