Me and Alex. Year eleven was a big year for me, romantically. Alex and Leah. Alex and I had been noticing each other all through year 10. We got together in year 11 assembly, Alex just asked me straight out in his usual confident style. Alex always got what he wanted.
I don’t know why I was thinking about him this morning?
Leah and I got together at the back of a youth group church hall, chaperoning fat Wendy and her first date, Hammer. My hunting grounds knew no bounds. Oh, I shouldn’t write that, it was a time of discovery.
It quickly became Fletcher and Roberts in year eleven. Only one teacher whoever, really, picked it. Mr Brock, Lachlan Brock. The rumour was always that he was gay. We found out after we left school who were the gay teachers, but I don’t think we ever really knew it while we were at school. The French teacher. The school camp master. The biology master. The bushwalking master. Oh yes, the head of music, that was the only scandal Smithton had to endure. The Group Head Master of Music left his wife and eloped to the Gold Coast with a year twelve boy, as soon as the year was done.
But, other than that, there was no funny business.
I only know that because I walked into The Peel with Alex, it was Opening Night, the day we screwed. And as if to, literally, say you cannot escape your past, all five masters were standing at the back bar. We turned on our heals and walked straight out the door again. We laughed so hard, read nearly crapped ourselves, as we fled down Wellington Street. We walked back to North Fitzroy where Alex’s car was. He got in and drove away. What are the chances, I ask you. Maybe, our old Smithton masters held up the bar at the Peel every night, who knows.
It must be 10 years ago that I read that Alex had died, in The Smithton Old Grammarian. Just suddenly like that, In Memorium. I was shocked. Ten years after we left school. I always thought we’d meet up one last time. I was ready for our ten year reunion, my ten year man, I’d learned some new tricks. I still don’t know what from? Gone.
Alex and I were Audio Equipment organisers, Mr Brock was the head of that department. Audio Visual, I guess, down the strange corridor into a world all of its own, lots of black. It even had its own smell, a black smell. Mr Brock used to live down there. He was really a senior teacher, in superiority, Year 10 Group Master, but because of his position, non-teacher, we didn’t, exactly, treat him as such. Or was it that we always knew that we were men of the same persuasion. I don’t know now? That wasn’t easy to grasp. Not that I thought in those terms back then, it was really just a feeling that I didn’t understand, and I seemed to connect with other males who didn’t understand those same feelings too. And occasionally we’d reach out to each other, and not always sexually, despite what others, who may want to bring us down, might say. Brock never wanted to have sex with me, nothing like that, but it is natural to connect on gay men alike basis. Not that I thought so clearly then, I only think this stuff now, looking back. All I knew was that he’d smiled and I’d smiled and some how we were both at ease when we did that.
Alex and I always went down together, we volunteered, we’d volunteer for everything, Alex and I, knowing the two of us, we probably made detours to the change rooms to suck each other’s cocks, you know, just on the way. The vice captain of the school and the captain of the football team and a lead batter in the under whatever’s cricket, and I was head of the debating team, yes, I know, hot, quite a smart kid, leader in the 500 competition, played in the orchestra, one of the leaders in the bushwalking club, I guess, known for having a big mouth. Well documented as a smoker in year twelve, one of the guys the year 12 group master would bot cigarettes off, if he was out. He’d deny it, I guess, but that was the era that I went to school.
This particular day, Alex was away, I can’t remember why.
It was first period, we needed audio visual equipment. As I struggled with the trolley, Brock leapt up and opened the door for me. He laughed and said, “Fletcher and Roberts," said Brock. "It's always Fletcher and Roberts. Where is your side kick?"
“He’s away, sir.” Shrug. “I don’t know why.”
“It’s always Fletcher and Roberts, isn’t it?” He looked me directly in the eyes. I felt like I had been read, his look of understanding was so strong.
"I don't know what you mean, sir." I didn’t really understand why I was blushing. Suddenly exposed.
“You two are buddies, always together,” said Brock.
I’m sure I looked blankly back at him, I seem to remember being lost for words. Did he just imply… was rushing through my mind? The first person, well, there is Tab, the first adult.
“Oh, don’t think that is a bad thing,” said Brock. “I think it is nice.”
I would have denied it, I could have, but I didn’t. I knew, that he knew, and that I knew he knew, and he knew that I knew. It was one of the most terrifyingly truthful moments of my life.
And it was okay, the world didn’t stop. My head didn’t explode, like I expected it to.
And I went straight to fucking Alex’s arse in my mind, that is really what Brock is talking about, as that’s all it could ever really have been, by that stage. I remember I blushed and smiled.
The moment froze. Just me and Brock, suddenly I grew as big as he was in my mind. I instinctively knew that Brock was gay too, in that moment, and he was a successful, reasonably good looking, gay man, telling me that life was okay.
I’m sure I would have though of a response, now we’ll never know, because right at that moment, my sparkly, sun-shining-out-of, Alex stumbled through the door, with what seemed like even more floppy hair, the strands separated with sweat, smiley face.
“Sorry. Dad’s car wouldn’t start. Did I miss anything?”
And then it was Brock and Fletcher and Roberts, in Brock’s office, just the three of us. Brock smiled, and as if he knew I was stuck in the moment, and needed someone to say something to snap me out of one of my first ever epiphanies, Brock looked at me and then to handsome Alex and then back to me. “No, you are just in time to help Christian,” said Brock.
And you must remember that Alex was at my shiny-new-toy stage so I was keen to keep looking at him. “No. Nothing.”
Alex looked at me, then looked at handsome Mr Brock and then looked back at me. Alex shrugged. “Good then.”
“Take the other end of the trolley,” I said.
“Nice talking, boys,” said Brock. He went back to whatever it was he was doing, I didn’t really notice.
But, I can tell you, that Alex had on what looked like his second pair of suit pants, maybe his pants were at the dry cleaners, he was clearly wearing last years pair for whatever reason and they were tight over his muscular arse, as he manoeuvred around the trolley. Grey woollen trousers, freshly ironed white shirt, striped tie. Blonde floppy hair. A fringe. Blue eyes. Big, handsome smile. I can close my eyes…
“What was all that about?”
“Nothing.” I was still processing it, I told Alex in real time, as I came to my realisation. “Me. You. I don't know?"
"What do you mean?" Alex is not dumb, he's one of the smartest guys I know. I saw him withdraw, as he realised what “it” meant. Scared. New material to deal with. He looked at me. Serious eyes. Processed. The world didn't explode. Cock of the head. And there was that smile, the smile that launched a thousand deals, the smile that broke my heart.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
Eventually, one of the boys, Scotty Bug, a few years after me and Alex, and well after he left school, a couple of years after he left school, moved in with Brock as his lover. But Brock would have taught him. Scotty Bug the athletic swim star. The champion hockey player. Who became Dr Scotty Bug. Brock and Bug. They had a long term relationship and, as far as I know, they are still together.
Alex would smile, and he’d kiss me, he had big, soft lips. He’d giggle when we kissed, as if we were doing something naughty, or like we were doing something good. Well, only in the very beginning.
Sometimes, I’d sit next to Alex, in the dark, as we watched some audio visual, which the two of us would have set up, so we’d sit down the back, last to take our seats. I can still feel his woollen trousers stretched over his muscular thigh. I can still feel his hand pause just that little bit too long, as our fingertips caressed, before he’d pull his hand away, and I instinctively would pull my hand away too. Only Tab ever noticed, he looked at Alex and I in ore, I’m sure. Sometimes he’d comment, quietly, whispered, and Alex and I would look at each other, then look back at Tab, blankly, not giving an inkling away to him. But, he always knew. He knew that we knew he knew. The two of us just never gave it oxygen with him, it frustrated the hell out of him.
You know those dogs in the Bugs Bunny cartoon, the bulldog and the little dog that was always asking the bulldog what to do. Alex and I were two bulldogs, and Tab was the small yappy dog. However, where the little dog always came out tops in the cartoons, he never did in real life, not with Alex and I. The little dog never had his day and after school Alex and I did not share Tab’s rise to the top of the medical profession, to heal people, to make up for his mogul father’s lack of love in Tab’s life.
We pushed the trolley out into the quad, but still between the building so nobody could see us. Alex came right over close, puffed himself up, pushed his chest out, he had a good chest, and said,
“Is Brock onto us.”
“Yeah,” I said all breathy, I can still hear myself say it. I nuzzled Alex’s neck. We pushed the trolley around to the classroom. Through the door into the main corridor, up the far steps, the steps travelled less often, the smokers steps. We’d carry the trolley up three flights. The smokers would look nervous, puffing away on their fags on the top floor. Alex would push the trolley in from there, I’d smack him on the arse as he went. Nobody noticed. Nobody said a word. We were the smart kids, it was probably ironic. I’d sit with Chook and MacDonald and bot a puff on a smoke. A couple of puffs, and then I’d run after Alex, managing to touch him again, before we’d get to class. He’d jump at the classroom door when I’d touch his arse. He’d give me big eyes, from under his floppy fringe. And a serious face. Some times he’d lean across and kiss me as he opened the door, I don’t know how we didn’t get caught, but we didn’t. But I am sure we were always jumpy when we re-joined the others. Nervy. On edge. We were both jumpy around one another, like someone had just pinched someone’s arse, usually someone had, I’m surprised nobody noticed. But I think year 12 boys are naturally touchy, kind of exploring their territory. And probably jumpy.
It was five years after school, that I met him again, in the street in North Fitzroy, just out of the blue, we bumped into each other.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” He’d had his hair cut short back and sides and I wanted to shag him so bad. Who is that sexy guy? That was my sexy man. He was married by then and had two sons, maybe three. He sent them to Smithton, he was big on the dad’s committee. So what, I'd say, I was still seeing Leah, when she'd go out, and get drunk, and couldn’t find a shag, and she’d be at my window at 3am wanting to screw, I didn’t give him that much detail. I met him on the island outside Piedes. He looked hot, the short hair really suited him. I told him I had an empty house just around the corner. Which I did.
What could he say?
We shagged on my bed, he was very enthusiastic, like no time had passed, but all the time had passed, as we both now knew what we were doing. He was a man, he fucked like a man. There was no way I wasn’t putting my cock up his arse. Where Roberts had been the dominant figure while we were at school, the way he shut me out of his life after year twelve, after his mum pretty much sprung us. We were dressed, and we were just sitting on his back deck drinking juice, when she came home, unexpectedly early. I had just forced him to take my cock up his arse, when he told me he couldn’t see me any more.
“Come on Fletch, it’s not school any more,” said Alex. “Its time to grow up.”
I pushed him on to the couch and pulled his jeans down, and pulled his jocks down, he struggled, but his cock gave him away. He was soon kissing me back, telling me how much he wanted it, again. There was his mother’s hand cream on the table, the next thing I had it on my cock and then I pushed my cock into his arse. He thought I was just roughhousing around, right up until I penetrated him, ah a couple of 18 year olds. He struggled, I struggled, then I pushed him forward onto his hands, he was off balance, he went over real easy and I pushed my cock up to my balls into his arse. He inhaled sharply, I can still hear that to this day. And I fucked him hard. He came violently all over his parent’s leather couch.
“That’s grown up,” I said.
I can still see him wiping the cum from his hand and stomach, his jeans and jocks around his thick thighs. We’d cleaned up. We were very relaxed. His mother came home right after that. The air smelt of the two of us sweating. She looked at us strangely, me warily. Alex said, “This is Christian.”
“Nice to meet you Christian,” she said, like she really meant the opposite. She could clearly sense something about me. I sensed she sensed it. “I’ve heard so much about you?”
“Nice to meet you Mrs Roberts,” I said. She wasn’t supposed to be home. I stood up, I’m sure I looked and sounded guilty. “I’ve got to be going.”
“Already,” she said. She meant the opposite.
I had my mum’s Saab, it was the summer after we left school. His parents were away, my parents were away, we caught up for sex through that whole period. I was fucking Alex and I was fucking Leah. It was the only time I ever cheated in my life and it was for the entire time I was with Leah. Shrug.
Alex and I went to Tasmania. Alex and I drove to Adelaide. Alex and I fucked in hotels around Melbourne. Alex and I had sex all the time Leah and I were having sex. I was getting good at it. Screwing Leah, screwing Alex. Alex and I were going out together, that glorious summer after we left school.
Then, Alex’s mum came home unexpectedly early from the beach house. I think she’d heard a lot about Christian and her son. Alex walked me out to my mum’s car.
“She could smell your arse in there,” I said.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“A mother never forgets the smell of her only son’s arse.”
Alex looked back at the house, then looked back at me. He couldn’t help but smile. “You really are disgusting.”
I drove away off into the sunny day in the cool Swede, feeling pretty chuffed with myself, I remember.
After our next meeting, he told me for the first time that he could never see me again. Broke my heart. We lost track. He wanted it that way.
He said he could never see me again, for the second time in his life, as he left my house that day. His jocks would have been glued to his arse all the way back to his wife. He would have to have had a shower as soon as he got home, not to be found out. Her husband came home with another man’s cum up his arse, I’m sure he would have done anything for her not to find out about that. Well, not that I knew of. Broke my heart again? No, I never expected him to, it was over by then. Just a memory. I was discovering my new suburb and the places men go to meet each other. But it was good to catch up. One for the road. He was his beautiful self. We weren’t jumpy with each other, sparking off each other. Devoured each other for the last time. I sent him back to his real life.
“Do I say its good seeing you again? It’s good seeing you again.” He smiled, and nuzzled my neck. He hugged me passionately on my veranda in the afternoon sunshine, as if he didn’t care who saw. For the first time ever, really.
I never saw him again.
I don’t know why I was thinking about him this morning?
Leah and I got together at the back of a youth group church hall, chaperoning fat Wendy and her first date, Hammer. My hunting grounds knew no bounds. Oh, I shouldn’t write that, it was a time of discovery.
It quickly became Fletcher and Roberts in year eleven. Only one teacher whoever, really, picked it. Mr Brock, Lachlan Brock. The rumour was always that he was gay. We found out after we left school who were the gay teachers, but I don’t think we ever really knew it while we were at school. The French teacher. The school camp master. The biology master. The bushwalking master. Oh yes, the head of music, that was the only scandal Smithton had to endure. The Group Head Master of Music left his wife and eloped to the Gold Coast with a year twelve boy, as soon as the year was done.
But, other than that, there was no funny business.
I only know that because I walked into The Peel with Alex, it was Opening Night, the day we screwed. And as if to, literally, say you cannot escape your past, all five masters were standing at the back bar. We turned on our heals and walked straight out the door again. We laughed so hard, read nearly crapped ourselves, as we fled down Wellington Street. We walked back to North Fitzroy where Alex’s car was. He got in and drove away. What are the chances, I ask you. Maybe, our old Smithton masters held up the bar at the Peel every night, who knows.
It must be 10 years ago that I read that Alex had died, in The Smithton Old Grammarian. Just suddenly like that, In Memorium. I was shocked. Ten years after we left school. I always thought we’d meet up one last time. I was ready for our ten year reunion, my ten year man, I’d learned some new tricks. I still don’t know what from? Gone.
Alex and I were Audio Equipment organisers, Mr Brock was the head of that department. Audio Visual, I guess, down the strange corridor into a world all of its own, lots of black. It even had its own smell, a black smell. Mr Brock used to live down there. He was really a senior teacher, in superiority, Year 10 Group Master, but because of his position, non-teacher, we didn’t, exactly, treat him as such. Or was it that we always knew that we were men of the same persuasion. I don’t know now? That wasn’t easy to grasp. Not that I thought in those terms back then, it was really just a feeling that I didn’t understand, and I seemed to connect with other males who didn’t understand those same feelings too. And occasionally we’d reach out to each other, and not always sexually, despite what others, who may want to bring us down, might say. Brock never wanted to have sex with me, nothing like that, but it is natural to connect on gay men alike basis. Not that I thought so clearly then, I only think this stuff now, looking back. All I knew was that he’d smiled and I’d smiled and some how we were both at ease when we did that.
Alex and I always went down together, we volunteered, we’d volunteer for everything, Alex and I, knowing the two of us, we probably made detours to the change rooms to suck each other’s cocks, you know, just on the way. The vice captain of the school and the captain of the football team and a lead batter in the under whatever’s cricket, and I was head of the debating team, yes, I know, hot, quite a smart kid, leader in the 500 competition, played in the orchestra, one of the leaders in the bushwalking club, I guess, known for having a big mouth. Well documented as a smoker in year twelve, one of the guys the year 12 group master would bot cigarettes off, if he was out. He’d deny it, I guess, but that was the era that I went to school.
This particular day, Alex was away, I can’t remember why.
It was first period, we needed audio visual equipment. As I struggled with the trolley, Brock leapt up and opened the door for me. He laughed and said, “Fletcher and Roberts," said Brock. "It's always Fletcher and Roberts. Where is your side kick?"
“He’s away, sir.” Shrug. “I don’t know why.”
“It’s always Fletcher and Roberts, isn’t it?” He looked me directly in the eyes. I felt like I had been read, his look of understanding was so strong.
"I don't know what you mean, sir." I didn’t really understand why I was blushing. Suddenly exposed.
“You two are buddies, always together,” said Brock.
I’m sure I looked blankly back at him, I seem to remember being lost for words. Did he just imply… was rushing through my mind? The first person, well, there is Tab, the first adult.
“Oh, don’t think that is a bad thing,” said Brock. “I think it is nice.”
I would have denied it, I could have, but I didn’t. I knew, that he knew, and that I knew he knew, and he knew that I knew. It was one of the most terrifyingly truthful moments of my life.
And it was okay, the world didn’t stop. My head didn’t explode, like I expected it to.
And I went straight to fucking Alex’s arse in my mind, that is really what Brock is talking about, as that’s all it could ever really have been, by that stage. I remember I blushed and smiled.
The moment froze. Just me and Brock, suddenly I grew as big as he was in my mind. I instinctively knew that Brock was gay too, in that moment, and he was a successful, reasonably good looking, gay man, telling me that life was okay.
I’m sure I would have though of a response, now we’ll never know, because right at that moment, my sparkly, sun-shining-out-of, Alex stumbled through the door, with what seemed like even more floppy hair, the strands separated with sweat, smiley face.
“Sorry. Dad’s car wouldn’t start. Did I miss anything?”
And then it was Brock and Fletcher and Roberts, in Brock’s office, just the three of us. Brock smiled, and as if he knew I was stuck in the moment, and needed someone to say something to snap me out of one of my first ever epiphanies, Brock looked at me and then to handsome Alex and then back to me. “No, you are just in time to help Christian,” said Brock.
And you must remember that Alex was at my shiny-new-toy stage so I was keen to keep looking at him. “No. Nothing.”
Alex looked at me, then looked at handsome Mr Brock and then looked back at me. Alex shrugged. “Good then.”
“Take the other end of the trolley,” I said.
“Nice talking, boys,” said Brock. He went back to whatever it was he was doing, I didn’t really notice.
But, I can tell you, that Alex had on what looked like his second pair of suit pants, maybe his pants were at the dry cleaners, he was clearly wearing last years pair for whatever reason and they were tight over his muscular arse, as he manoeuvred around the trolley. Grey woollen trousers, freshly ironed white shirt, striped tie. Blonde floppy hair. A fringe. Blue eyes. Big, handsome smile. I can close my eyes…
“What was all that about?”
“Nothing.” I was still processing it, I told Alex in real time, as I came to my realisation. “Me. You. I don't know?"
"What do you mean?" Alex is not dumb, he's one of the smartest guys I know. I saw him withdraw, as he realised what “it” meant. Scared. New material to deal with. He looked at me. Serious eyes. Processed. The world didn't explode. Cock of the head. And there was that smile, the smile that launched a thousand deals, the smile that broke my heart.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
Eventually, one of the boys, Scotty Bug, a few years after me and Alex, and well after he left school, a couple of years after he left school, moved in with Brock as his lover. But Brock would have taught him. Scotty Bug the athletic swim star. The champion hockey player. Who became Dr Scotty Bug. Brock and Bug. They had a long term relationship and, as far as I know, they are still together.
Alex would smile, and he’d kiss me, he had big, soft lips. He’d giggle when we kissed, as if we were doing something naughty, or like we were doing something good. Well, only in the very beginning.
Sometimes, I’d sit next to Alex, in the dark, as we watched some audio visual, which the two of us would have set up, so we’d sit down the back, last to take our seats. I can still feel his woollen trousers stretched over his muscular thigh. I can still feel his hand pause just that little bit too long, as our fingertips caressed, before he’d pull his hand away, and I instinctively would pull my hand away too. Only Tab ever noticed, he looked at Alex and I in ore, I’m sure. Sometimes he’d comment, quietly, whispered, and Alex and I would look at each other, then look back at Tab, blankly, not giving an inkling away to him. But, he always knew. He knew that we knew he knew. The two of us just never gave it oxygen with him, it frustrated the hell out of him.
You know those dogs in the Bugs Bunny cartoon, the bulldog and the little dog that was always asking the bulldog what to do. Alex and I were two bulldogs, and Tab was the small yappy dog. However, where the little dog always came out tops in the cartoons, he never did in real life, not with Alex and I. The little dog never had his day and after school Alex and I did not share Tab’s rise to the top of the medical profession, to heal people, to make up for his mogul father’s lack of love in Tab’s life.
We pushed the trolley out into the quad, but still between the building so nobody could see us. Alex came right over close, puffed himself up, pushed his chest out, he had a good chest, and said,
“Is Brock onto us.”
“Yeah,” I said all breathy, I can still hear myself say it. I nuzzled Alex’s neck. We pushed the trolley around to the classroom. Through the door into the main corridor, up the far steps, the steps travelled less often, the smokers steps. We’d carry the trolley up three flights. The smokers would look nervous, puffing away on their fags on the top floor. Alex would push the trolley in from there, I’d smack him on the arse as he went. Nobody noticed. Nobody said a word. We were the smart kids, it was probably ironic. I’d sit with Chook and MacDonald and bot a puff on a smoke. A couple of puffs, and then I’d run after Alex, managing to touch him again, before we’d get to class. He’d jump at the classroom door when I’d touch his arse. He’d give me big eyes, from under his floppy fringe. And a serious face. Some times he’d lean across and kiss me as he opened the door, I don’t know how we didn’t get caught, but we didn’t. But I am sure we were always jumpy when we re-joined the others. Nervy. On edge. We were both jumpy around one another, like someone had just pinched someone’s arse, usually someone had, I’m surprised nobody noticed. But I think year 12 boys are naturally touchy, kind of exploring their territory. And probably jumpy.
It was five years after school, that I met him again, in the street in North Fitzroy, just out of the blue, we bumped into each other.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” He’d had his hair cut short back and sides and I wanted to shag him so bad. Who is that sexy guy? That was my sexy man. He was married by then and had two sons, maybe three. He sent them to Smithton, he was big on the dad’s committee. So what, I'd say, I was still seeing Leah, when she'd go out, and get drunk, and couldn’t find a shag, and she’d be at my window at 3am wanting to screw, I didn’t give him that much detail. I met him on the island outside Piedes. He looked hot, the short hair really suited him. I told him I had an empty house just around the corner. Which I did.
What could he say?
We shagged on my bed, he was very enthusiastic, like no time had passed, but all the time had passed, as we both now knew what we were doing. He was a man, he fucked like a man. There was no way I wasn’t putting my cock up his arse. Where Roberts had been the dominant figure while we were at school, the way he shut me out of his life after year twelve, after his mum pretty much sprung us. We were dressed, and we were just sitting on his back deck drinking juice, when she came home, unexpectedly early. I had just forced him to take my cock up his arse, when he told me he couldn’t see me any more.
“Come on Fletch, it’s not school any more,” said Alex. “Its time to grow up.”
I pushed him on to the couch and pulled his jeans down, and pulled his jocks down, he struggled, but his cock gave him away. He was soon kissing me back, telling me how much he wanted it, again. There was his mother’s hand cream on the table, the next thing I had it on my cock and then I pushed my cock into his arse. He thought I was just roughhousing around, right up until I penetrated him, ah a couple of 18 year olds. He struggled, I struggled, then I pushed him forward onto his hands, he was off balance, he went over real easy and I pushed my cock up to my balls into his arse. He inhaled sharply, I can still hear that to this day. And I fucked him hard. He came violently all over his parent’s leather couch.
“That’s grown up,” I said.
I can still see him wiping the cum from his hand and stomach, his jeans and jocks around his thick thighs. We’d cleaned up. We were very relaxed. His mother came home right after that. The air smelt of the two of us sweating. She looked at us strangely, me warily. Alex said, “This is Christian.”
“Nice to meet you Christian,” she said, like she really meant the opposite. She could clearly sense something about me. I sensed she sensed it. “I’ve heard so much about you?”
“Nice to meet you Mrs Roberts,” I said. She wasn’t supposed to be home. I stood up, I’m sure I looked and sounded guilty. “I’ve got to be going.”
“Already,” she said. She meant the opposite.
I had my mum’s Saab, it was the summer after we left school. His parents were away, my parents were away, we caught up for sex through that whole period. I was fucking Alex and I was fucking Leah. It was the only time I ever cheated in my life and it was for the entire time I was with Leah. Shrug.
Alex and I went to Tasmania. Alex and I drove to Adelaide. Alex and I fucked in hotels around Melbourne. Alex and I had sex all the time Leah and I were having sex. I was getting good at it. Screwing Leah, screwing Alex. Alex and I were going out together, that glorious summer after we left school.
Then, Alex’s mum came home unexpectedly early from the beach house. I think she’d heard a lot about Christian and her son. Alex walked me out to my mum’s car.
“She could smell your arse in there,” I said.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“A mother never forgets the smell of her only son’s arse.”
Alex looked back at the house, then looked back at me. He couldn’t help but smile. “You really are disgusting.”
I drove away off into the sunny day in the cool Swede, feeling pretty chuffed with myself, I remember.
After our next meeting, he told me for the first time that he could never see me again. Broke my heart. We lost track. He wanted it that way.
He said he could never see me again, for the second time in his life, as he left my house that day. His jocks would have been glued to his arse all the way back to his wife. He would have to have had a shower as soon as he got home, not to be found out. Her husband came home with another man’s cum up his arse, I’m sure he would have done anything for her not to find out about that. Well, not that I knew of. Broke my heart again? No, I never expected him to, it was over by then. Just a memory. I was discovering my new suburb and the places men go to meet each other. But it was good to catch up. One for the road. He was his beautiful self. We weren’t jumpy with each other, sparking off each other. Devoured each other for the last time. I sent him back to his real life.
“Do I say its good seeing you again? It’s good seeing you again.” He smiled, and nuzzled my neck. He hugged me passionately on my veranda in the afternoon sunshine, as if he didn’t care who saw. For the first time ever, really.
I never saw him again.
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