Nicholas

Last Day of the Year

It was a hot day, all right – skin frying hot. It was 2007’s hottest recorded day, apparently. Tomorrow is going to be more of the same, in the forties. I could feel the sun burning into my skin, like needles, whenever I was out of the shade.

I headed off into the shimmering haze, in the direction of Bolago. I was to spend the night with LouLou, the beautiful Sebastian and his friend George, fresh off the boat from Italy. The day was peeking out on the sun’s rays, whited out just around the edges, as happens on a scorcher of a day. The colours were really bright, contrast was on high definition.

The roads were sparsely populated with cars – gentle and serene is what I may have called the day heading up the melting, like liquorice, bitumen.

I had to buy petrol – actually, I didn't, I had half a tank, but I like to fill up before I leave town. Besides, I wanted to run the aircon with impunity. I bought a litre of ice coffee milk, I was feeling a little peckish - ignoring Shane's constant reminder. "Flavoured milk may not be high in fat, but it is one huge sugar pill and unless you get yourself back to the gym, blah, blah, blah."

A litre of iced coffee milk plays havoc on the bladder on a long drive and it wasn't long before I was squeezing my legs together for want of a toilet. There is a rest stop about half way, which my bladder was leading me to.

As I pulled into the rest stop, I saw there were 3 guys hovering around a tap. They looked like surfies, even though there was no beach for miles. They had a van parked in the first parking bay. They were all shirtless, swarthy types, sun-tanned, dark. They were wetting themselves under the tap. They looked like they were washing, changing clothes, playing under the sprinkler, like kids. They seemed to be in their underwear. All three were very dark, dark hair, tanned skin. Big, boofy blokes, two with hairy chests, all three with really hairy, well shaped, legs.

I headed into the toilet, noting that they were all pretty cute. I love guys in their underwear, gets me hot.

As I headed back to the car, one of them was heading back from their car, he was close to the toilet door as I came out.

"Jeez, it's hot, ay?" he said, very affably, as I our eyes met.

"It's bloody hot, isn't it," I said.

"I'm Rob," said smiley man holding out his hand to shake. "Too hot for fuck!"

I gathered he meant anything at all. "I'm Christian."

A cigarette is a good prop for a chat. So, I lit one and stood. I offered one to Rob, but he declined.

"Nice to meet ya buddy. That's Carl and that's Mick." Each waved as he said their names.

The two other boys were splashing each other with water. Carl was the sexy one, fine, toned, low fat, body in his briefs, wet and not succeeding in keeping his manhood out of sight. He had a fine arse on him. He was washing himself down with water. Mick wasn't bad either, he laughed a lot, big, handsome, smiley face. He had on black trunks, with the thick strip of white elastic around his waist that I always find so sexy on men. Hairy chest, nice bulge. Nice, big legs.

"Good thing it rained recently, otherwise the whole bloody lot could be in danger of going up," said Rob.

"Yeah, I guess," I said. "Where are you guys from?"

"Oh, all over really," replied Rob. "We're on our way to the beach for New Year. Ya want to come to a party down Lorne way?"

I laughed, instead of answering, as I gathered, he wasn't serious, just being polite.

"Oh, fuck it," said Carl. "I need one of those outside showers like they have down the beach." He pulled down the front of his jocks and washed himself freely. Big grin. I was a bit surprised. I had to look away... what a schlong!

I looked at Mick. His cock lay sideways in his trunks and looked half on the pump, as he jumped as the cold water hit him.

I looked back at Rob.

"So, have you got a missus?" Rob asked me.

"No, no missus."

He smiled broadly and looked around at his mates. "Then you must be loving this, hey?"

What did he mean, I thought. Just because I haven't got a missus? I must have misunderstood him.

He was looking around at his two mates, almost lecherously. I didn't misunderstand, I gathered. We both gazed at Carl and Mick momentarily. Well, I took the opportunity to. Carl was back in his jocks and Mick was trying to gain control of the tap.

"So, who do you think is the best looking?" asked Rob. "Outa the three of us?"

"What?" I asked surprised again.

"Oh, come on," said Rob, as though he didn't believe my vagueness. "You're a good looking guy, you should be able to spot other good looking guys."

"You're all good looking guys."

"Ah, come on," protested Rob. "You have to pick."

I laughed, hoping a laugh would be enough. Somehow, I didn't expect it would.

"We're a bit messy..."

"How come?"

"We have a pill supply for the eve's party, but we couldn't help ourselves and just had to try a couple of them on for size."

"Really?"

"So, you couldn't tell?"

"No."

"Here am I assuming somethin' and it may not be true," said Rob. "You're probably a good boy?"

"What?" I said.

He leant into me. "Are ya a party boy?"

"Oh yeah," I said. "Have been."

Big smile from Rob. "So that's okay then, ya know what I'm talkin about when I say pills, yes?"

"Yes."

"I'd hate to be talkin' over your head, or somethink, you know."

"No, no, I understand."

"So we're pretty much understanding all around, hey?"

"Yes."

"It's good, huh?"

"Yes, it's good."

Carl pulled his shorts on over his wet jocks, body, hair, no attempt to dry himself. Mick was rubbing the legs of his shorts down to squeeze out the excess water.

"We're short on petrol money." He looked over at the guys. "Um, you see, will be stuck very soon." He looked at me and grimaced. "So, which one of us in the back of the van for a hundred bucks."

Rent boy? Rent boy? I thought. How many degrees of separation? I just looked at him, held his gaze. He held his cool expression, as though he had asked an everyday question and he was simply waiting for an everyday answer.

He dropped his voice and said, very mater of a factly."Carl's got a really big cock." He glanced sideways furtively and spoke softer. "But you'd like Mick's too. It's pretty nice. You know, if you like that sort of thing. But Carl is the biggest." He smiled. "Biggest of the three." He smiled. "Although none of us have anything to be ashamed of." He kind of chuckled.

I was speechless, one of those rare moments. I wondered if it was a set-up, you know, I was about to be bashed, my body dumped in the bushes, behind the bog, my car nicked. I started to say a couple of things, but couldn't.

Then I rather lamely said, with a laugh, trying to make light of it. "It's too damn hot for anything like that."

Rob's face came back to life. "I guess you're right, buddy," he said. "Worth a try, but."

Then I rather inexplicably said, "Sorry."

I looked at Rob and his piercing blue eyes and his mop of black hair, and his cheeky smile - not to mention his perfect hairy chest and stomach. You're the best looking, buddy, I wanted to say. Back of the van, now.

"No hard feelings, though," said Rob. He tapped me on the arm. "Huh?"

"No, no," I said. "Not at all."

"Dunno what we're gonna do," said Rob. "She'll be right, though. Always is, hey?"

"I guess."

"I've got a six-pack in the back of the van. Can I get you a beer?"

"Nah, I'd better get going," I said. "Get out of the heat."

"Okay. Suit yourself. Nice chatting with you."

"Yeah, me too."

"My turn under the tap." He reached for the elastic of his shorts.

I found that I was shaking, as I tried to push the clutch in and get the GTI into reverse.

I found I couldn't get the smile off my face.

Sebastian and George spent the day on St Kilda beach, in the 44 degree heat.

"I have never experienced heat like that before, anywhere in the world." And Sebastian has traveled a lot. "It actually was hot and actually hurt when you breathed in." He raised his hands and looked speechless.

In true Italian style, they were both beautifully brown.

LouLou had a feast prepared, of the million different varieties of cheese, nibbles and biscuits, ham, prosciutto, kabana, nuts, melon, pineapple, dates. Beer, champagne, pot. We drank like fish and smoked like demons. At one stage there were three joints coming at me and I already had one. It was like a bush fire there was so much smoke. We laughed, we played music, we danced, we feasted and toasted the new year.

It was a spectacular night, fresh and warm with the black velvet sky above.

 

Home on a Sunday

I got really stoned and decided to hire a prostitute. I had nothing else planned for today, anyway. Well, I decided that I'd never done it and that it was time I did. You know, something ticked off the life time list. Hiring a gorgeous guy for sex, suddenly seemed hot. The going rate seemed to be $200, which seemed reasonable. I can spend $200 in a day on nothing, and never miss it.

I picked a baby nineteen year old with a handsome face, mostly because he was a Virgo - just to see how a serious young man negotiates selling himself. A twenty four year old with a hot, toned body, with the promise of being a sensuous bottom. And an Aussie with a thick juicy cock and a cheeky personality to match, with his own place.

Well. They either weren't answering, haven't answered or were unavailable. I'd have thought hiring a rent boy, in a big city, would have been easy to organise, but, apparently, not. It doesn't seem to be a same day proposition. Things you learn.

Of course, I kept smoking the pot and ended up with, no, not a boner, but an extreme case of the munchies. The rent boy urge passed and the food urge became very apparent.

Fuck it, I headed off to the fish & chip shop. I'd already drunk all the coke in the fridge. And the two ice creams in the freezer. It was a beautiful day out side, sunny with a slight breeze.

Some drunk slag followed me in the door of the fish shop. She was a heavy breather, standing right there behind me, it gave me a chill.

She didn't open her mouth when she talked; she spoke like a Queenslander. The Asian man behind the counter had trouble understanding her.

Her scuffs were once pink and fluffy, but now were grey. They hung off her feet, like some kind of fungus.

"I want half a fisherman's basket."

I wondered if that was half a fisherman, or half a basket?

"Yes, yes, half," said the bald-headed man behind the counter."

"But I don't like scallops, so could I have prawns instead."

Her track suit pants hung off her, making her look kind of lop-sided. It looked like her arse was melting. I stifled a giggle. She looked in my direction.

"You don't like scallops and you want..."

"Prawns."

"Ah. Prawn."

Her stomach hung out under her t-shirt. It was white with blue veins and red spots. It looked like a beer gut.

"That's four prawns. Instead of scallops."

He looked confused. She looked at me, again. Don't look at me, I thought. I should be on top of a rent boy right about now, so there's no sympathy coming from over here.

"Ah, yes, prawn. No scallop," said the shop keeper catching on.

"And I don't want chips."

"No chips?"

Which part of this basket did she actually want?

She had some shiny residue around her mouth, as though she'd applied too much lip gloss on her lips, chin and cheeks. I wondered what it was? It didn't bare thinking about on her paste skin. Maybe she'd just earned the fish & chip money?

"Can I have a potato cake instead of the chips."

"No chips."

"No. No chips. Potato cake." She was starting to pronounce her word phonetically.

Her hair was tied with a scarf; rapped around and pinned. There seemed to be something sticking out of her hair, at the top. Food? Sticks? Beer bottle tops?

"Potato cake."

"Yes, that's right."

I wondered how the five calamari rings in the full fisherman's basket were halved. You can't exactly get 1/2 a calamari ring, now can you? Oh, I guess you can.

"And I'd like that well cooked."

What, I thought?

"Pardon," said the nice Asian man behind the counter.

There was a momentary silence, as there often is when someone says something monumentally stupid. Listen for it next time. If the shop proprietor and I could have come out of freeze-frame for a split second, we would have looked at each other questioningly.

"I'd like it nicely well cooked," she said. She kind of curtsied and touched her face @ the same time.

Someone, at some time had a very different conversation with her, to the one her few brain cells were accessing presently, about having food cooked in certain ways.

Proprietor man simply agreed. What other option did he have?

She just sat and stared blankly out the window, as her food was being cooked, the sun glinting on her shiny mouth. There was absolutely no colour in her face. Her lips were the same colour as her skin...

"Thank you," said the nice, bald Asian man. "You ready."

My head was starting to thump, as I head back up the hill towards home. Pulse rate, hills, you do the maths. What a glorious day. No, really, very sunny, very bright. And at least I could choose the times to be fucked up in it, unlike half-basket alcho woman. And soon I'd be out of it, the sun, that is, nearly home. I shielded my eyes from the suns rays. Nearly home. Splendid. I felt my fingers twitching. Vampire Christian made one of his infrequent appearances. I started to limp, just slightly. Skin stretched from my torso to my arm, like webbing, as I shielded my face from the bright light.

Round the corner, back to my gate.

Beck was leaving next door on her bike. My pointed ears sucked back into my skin. I didn't particularly want to talk, my head was spinning - maybe that last blood... joint I had before I left the house, wasn't a good idea - so I dropped my eyes.

Beck has been ripping out her back garden and replacing it with a veggie patch/orchard. She tells me all about it, one advance after another victory, like she believes I am interested. As soon as I got to my door she was calling.

"Chris, Chris." Fang retraction can be painful if hurried. I covered my mouth with my hand.

Can't avoid her without being rude. Would she notice, now, if I turned myself into a bat and flew away? "Chris?" Too late. I am I to be spared nothing.

"Yes?"

Beck appeared at my front gate.

"A mystery in our back yard." Big, toothy smile. "Seventeen peach pips all in the space of this one, small area." Big eyes. "Mad, hey?" She was doing Miss Marple crossed with Princess Anne, but as a kind of comedy.

Oh please, dear, universe, no. "It's probably a possum."

"Seventeen peaches, in one sitting." Great big eyes. Exclamation. "I don't think so." She might as well have said rightio, or tally ho.

I know you are just going to take any opportunity you can to talk about this. I can already pick the roll you are heading off on.

Oh Beck, I really don't care. "Oh." Big, breath. My pale complexion returned to normal. "I don't know then." Faux grimace. My eyes turn back from yellow to green.

There was an awkward silence, which was the only bit of the conversation I was, actually, enjoying, oddly enough.

Beck looked disappointed, with that hey ho expression plastered right across her gob. I was nearly sucked right back in again. Can't have Beck looking disappointed; I wanted to apologise and to take up the peach pip discussion with gusto. Fortunately, I moved my head around 90 degrees and my whole brain seemed to swoon within my skull, bumping on the inside of the bone, like a dogem-car.

"I just thought I'd tell you." Fallen crest. Enthusiastic, horsey smile sliding right off her face. "For security reasons."

You just wanted to prattle on about your stupid, fucking garden again. Don't give me security reasons. I disengaged.

I turned around and headed inside without another word.

I squeezed the lemon on my fish and assured myself that tonight wasn't new years eve and that I hadn't got my dates confused. I did the 30-days-has-September thing to make sure. Four times.

 

Working Boys

I've never hired a prostitute. 

Well, there was that one time when Mark & I were so off our chops and we ordered an Italian stud, as he was described and, what looked like, a short, fat Mexican arrived. The two of us descended into gales of laughter, in the next room, rolling around telling the other one to get rid of him. 

But, that time a side... this morning I was bored. I woke up early, turned my computer on straight away. Do you think that is the beginning of a future syndrome? I got to looking at working boys from around the world on gaydar, not really sure why. 

So, back to my original point, I have never hired a prostitute, who I went onto have sex with and I haven't been to Paris in a while, but those Parisian rent boys sure make me want to do both. Yep, Paris has the hottest working boys. Here is a selection for your enjoyment.

And then there are the Italians

Priscilla

There it was, the same Priscilla. The same, lame, dated jokes, the same nauseating stereotypical representations, the same cliches. The same tired story line, the same old road movie, the same old love story with the fatal flaw. But, where the movie had the considerable acting talents of the amazing Hugo Weaving, to pull it through, unfortunately, the stage show did not.

Did it work? Oh, I guess so, in that sausage factory, colour and movement, pump them out, kind of way. A show with the great songs that Priscilla has can't go wrong. But I find the campy characterisations too, too much. It's a view of a world that is really dated - can't we have some modern gay representations? - surely. But I guess the whole musical theatre experience is on retro, at present.

Can We Catch Up Inc.

Max Fanizzi is a good looking Italian boy who has taken the reins of Guido's empire while Guido is in parts unknown. Where is Guido? What is he doing...? Parts unknown? It's like he's, um. Oh? Did a penny just drop? ...laying low... Guido is laying low. Am I normally that slow?

Max is shortish, trendy, with a huge smile, lots of thick, black hair. He's a qualified lawyer, but his party boy ways got in the way at his first law firm. He's sexy and has more personality than any one person deserves. He's a party boy, always out dancing, having a good time. He plays the stock market and is very good at it.

Vandel Caldera is the tough guy, big, athletic, broad shoulders, who enforces things when things need to be enforced, apparently, whatever that means. I didn't ask. He has a tendency to wear blue singlets and jeans. He owns a group of gyms and does very well.

Scott Lara is a strapping, all Aussie boy, ex-football captain, head master's first eleven, tall, good looking, you know the type. He's the financial brains behind the whole operation. He's made them all rich, all before thirty.

You might pick Max as gay, maybe, maybe not. Third generation son of Italian immigrants. No one would ever pick Van - but he likes nothing more than cute, young party twinks with fine... um... er, fits to their jeans, shall we say. Scott's every parent's dream son, on paper, masters in accounting, investment houses in the inner suburbs. But, he's a complete pig with his snout in the trough, when it comes to, shall we say good times, real or manufactured and men.

Max and Van are ex lovers, as are Max and Scott.

Guido, of course, is the Pied Piper of this gang. Max is his play thing, when it suits him. As Scott is Van's. They party hard, together.

Max tells me stuff. As does Guido. Not sure why. I often wonder if I'm special, or do they tell all their clients? They couldn't, they'd be...

The country was great, relaxing, blah, blah, blah. Well, it could have been, if every man and his dog didn't decide to take a drive to the country, after Xmas. Oh, yes, splendid! Shall we? Lets shall? It was like fucking Bourke Street. When some old friend who we haven't seen in ten years, decided it was a nice afternoon for a drive, I bailed, yesterday lunch time. Family, grand parents. Raymond and some old expats, without Adam. Andrew our comedian friend and his wife and kids. A couple of old party buddies. Even Sebastian rolled his eyes and smiled his cute-boy smile, exhaled loudly and said, enough, in his sexy Italian accent.

Luke rolled me a joint and the whole drive home I was thinking about sucking up a few herbs, the house to myself, recharge before New Year. Matt got me a ticket to Nurse Betty. I had to see Max.
I thought I might drive straight over to his place, get it over and done with, before I hit home. You know, you're bound to get into trouble if you leave it half organised at New Year. As I turned the corner, into Max's street, he was sliding a large, black suit case into the back of his sleek, black SRI. He was going to Byron. Ten days.

I tooted, flashed my lights and roared to a halt, in the middle of the road, leaped out of the car and practically said, I'm chasing!

"Running low, my boy?" Straight face Max.

"Low but not out. It would be great if you had some," I said. I was mustering my best debating team argument. Max's face broke into a bemused smile, as he closed the hatch.

"I've just got a ticket to the day party. Come on Max, it was last minute..."

He stepped forward, looked left, looked right, put his finger to his lips and whispered. "Scott and Van are inside. Go to go." Big smile. He leaped into his car - the SRI and the GTI looked good together. Black hat, white hat, in the wild old west - and accelerated away.

The front door was open, ambient music reached out and met me. I walked in. It smelled of a party.
Van was sitting in the couch in his y-fronts. Scott was sitting between his legs, in grey tracksuit pants, with his head resting on, what looked like, Van's semi-hard cock. Big bulge. They were playing some sort of dual control game on the TV. They were both completely out of it. Sweating. Red-faced.

"On the coffee table," said Scott. "Yeah! Max left something, you just missed him."

Van has magnificent thighs, hairy, thick. Big feet. I opened and closed my mouth. He clippers his chest, obviously.

"He said you'd be around, at some stage," said Van. "I'm surprised you didn't see him... Got you!" They both cheered.
The two of them looked incredible. Staring at the television screen, twitching, jumping, their eyes only looking at me furtively. Smiling. Laughing.
I picked up my yellow envelope. I got my wallet out.

"Nah," said Scott.

"Another time, bro," said Van.

I'm sure neither of them had looked at me. It was a spooky moment. A chill ran up my spine. I put my wallet back in my back pocket.
Van's got this amazing chest and shoulders and arms. Muscley. There is nothing as sexy as muscular arms. Scott has great abs with a trail of hair that disappears down into his thin cotton pants, which had managed to cling to his skin from sweat and from where I was standing, it was rapped up neatly like a lamb kebab. Yum!

"You can stay and watch if you want," said Van.

"But...," said Scott. His glance my way, very much said, but you can't. I didn't want to, anyway.

Bottom, for sure, I thought. A part from the fact, Max told me. Aggressive bottom, from all accounts.
"Feels less of a man for wanting it up the patootie, in the first place," grinned Max. "So he makes up for it with blokey aggression when he's getting boned."

I closed the door on the way out.

I laughed, as I drove away. How desperate did I sound to Max, when I jumped out of the car? He'll say something when I next see him, bound to. "You should have seen Christian." he'll announce with a cheeky smile. I know he will. I tried not to feel embarrassed, but I did. Wondered what it said about me? I'll have to ask David. We'll have to consult the happy cards, for sure.

I looked at the yellow envelope on the black leather of the passenger seat. What did I care, anyway. I was all set for New Years Day, despite no planning what so ever. I smiled all the way home. Nothing to do but rest until then.

Except, Priscilla, tonight. It should be good.

The Christian Message

Feuding Christian sects have attacked each other in a flurry of fists and brooms at the Bethlehem church where Christ was reputedly born, leaving four people injured.

The fight took place at the ecumenical Church of the Nativity, where priests from both the Greek Orthodox and Armenian Apostolic orders had been cleaning up after Christmas celebrations earlier in the week, the BBC reports.

It is understood the fracas began when a Greek priest placed a ladder in a part of the church known be under Armenian jurisdiction.

Up to 80 bearded holy men wearing dark robes became embroiled in the fight, many wielding brooms.

Palestinian police were forced to separate the warring orders by forming themselves into a human shield.

The church, shared between the Greek Orthodox, Armenic Apostolic and Roman Catholic authorities, has long been a source of tension.

It is built over the spot Jesus is thought to have been born 2007 years ago.

Thousands of pilgrims have already packed out the church over the Christmas period, with more celebrations planned for next week.

Nine News 

The Gay Message

Happy Festivus

Luke and I were out the back smoking j's.

I kissed all the relatives happy Xmas, as they arrived for Xmas lunch, on Boxing Day, Grandpa, Grand ma, aunties, uncles, etc. When I got to a younger niece, she said,

I'd go and freshen your mouth, uncle, before you kiss any more of them. She smiled. As you taste like a Bedouin Joss House.

Oops.

It all went well, anyway. Surrounded by family makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, even if I try to deny it. Well, it does, surprise, surprise. I think it's good for all of us, pulls us out of any selfishness we may be cultivating. Families are honest, they cut through any shit so easily.

But, I like my family, which I know isn't true for everyone.

There were a couple of occasions when I looked up and the room spun and I thought no more red wine for an hour. Unlike me, really.

My plain, freckle-faced, frizzy-haired, somewhat objectionable niece has turned into a gorgeous, blond, how did that happen? There were lots of kids - if I wasn't gay I'd no doubt have a couple of my own. What? 10 and 12. Both doing well in school. We're all in that age bracket, now.

The toddlers had to wait, some what patiently, as we all sang Xmas carols in unison. Nephews bought guitars, there was no stopping us. Grand Ma, all the way down to neices and nephews. We've all got the vocal gene. Three generations. Four, actually. The babies waited patiently, although they were noticeably grumpy, as we all finally staggered back into the lounge room, bunging a Santa Cap on Grand pa, on our way.

And they all left early. Grand Pa, the miserable old bastard turned, right on queue and Grand Pa and Grand Ma, the only two staying, went to bed early.

It was a beautiful night, the full moon bright and silver, lighting up the earth.

An Atheist in the Woods

An atheist was walking through the woods.

"What majestic trees! What powerful rivers! What beautiful animals!" he said.

As he was walking alongside the river, he heard a rustling in the bushes behind him.

He turned to look. He saw a 7-foot grizzly bear charge towards him.

He ran as fast as he could up the path. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the bear was closing in on him.

He looked over his shoulder again, and the bear was even closer. He tripped and fell on the ground. He rolled over to pick himself up but saw that the bear was right on top of him, reaching for him with his left paw and raising his right paw to strike him.

At that instant the Atheist cried out, "Oh my God!"

Time Stopped. The bear froze. The forest was silent.

As a bright light shone upon the man, a voice came out of the sky. "You deny my existence for all these years, teach others I don't exist and even credit creation to cosmic accident. Do you expect me to help you out of this predicament? Am I to count you as a believer"?

The atheist looked directly into the light, "It would be hypocritical of me to suddenly ask you to treat me as a Christian now, but perhaps you could make the BEAR a Christian"?

"Very Well," said the voice.

The light went out. The sounds of the forest resumed. And the bear dropped his right paw, brought both paws together, bowed his head and spoke:

"Lord bless this food, which I am about to receive from thy bounty through Christ our Lord, Amen."

Something to Think About on Xmas Eve

There is enough food on this planet to feed every one, yet one third of the population starves.

... something to remember as you run up thousands of dollars of land fill on your credit card this year. 

The Xmas Angel

Lover

There are 6 billion people in the world and I like you better than all of them.