Saturday Night

"Take me out. Show me the big city," said Titania. "Introduce me to friends."

"Sure," said Christopher. "I'm supposed to be heading out with Warren and Jimmy. "You can come too."

"Varren? Jimmy?"

"My best mates," said Christopher. "We went to school together. I think they are..."

"There are vhat?" asked Titania.

I think they are... you know... " Jimmy made pelvic motions.

"Gay?" said Titania.

"Just now, may be, getting together before my eyes," said Christopher. "They think I don't know, I'm sure."

Christopher noticed for the first time how beautiful Titiana was. Willowy blond, fine bones, petite. She had a sharp angular face that soften when she laughed. Long, sandy blond hair that glistened in the breeze.

She was very serious. Only spoke at a minimum. Gazed long and inquiringly. He face rested naturally in a blank expression, as though she was taking every thing in.

And then she'd smile and she was beautiful again.

"Vhat you take before... go out?" asked Titiana.

"What?" said Christopher. He'd been agonising over shocking Titiana going out on the party scene. He thought it would all be new to her.

"Pill? Powder? said Titiana clearly. She laughed. "I learned pill? powder? when I go out in London."

"You've been to London?"

"I study there?"

"You're not a refugee?"

"NO!" To this she sounded shocked. "I'm a lawyer."

"You take drugs in Russia?"

"Ve take many drugs in Russia, we have to," she said. She sighed and the life drained out of her face. "Vhat else to do?"

"Wow," said Christopher, a weight had been taken off his shoulders.

"Sure I take them in London," she smiled, "first," she said. "But, I find them Russia too. Moscow not so different."

"I thought you were a poor artist, you met Anna through painting..."

"I meet Anna in Moscow night club doing cocaine off toilet seat."

 

Early Hours

Wow, hasn't it been raining. And it's still raining. Thursday morning I watched some shops in Gertrude Street have water lapping under their doors.

I went out and took and E and danced at A Bar Called Barry, with Tim and Nicholas and co – Patricia, Sarah, fat Nikki, and a bizarre friend of Nicholas’ called Cathy. Too many drugs over the years for that one, I suspect. Found under a rock, I believe.

None of the girls, we meet out, ever believe Nicholas is gay - big, strapping, dark-haired and handsome boy that he is. There always seems to be a gaggle around him, saying that it can't be true.

The music was heard-every-song-a-zillion-times 80's retro. The club only ever filled up to half full, maybe a few more.

Tim went home and then called Nicholas to come home, the usual shenanigans with those two.

I took E, I danced and I only drank beer as a fluid. Oh, my aching head.

The Lunch

I had lunch with Charlie. We didn't really get onto the business, just talked about travel and spiritualism. I didn't even ask him if he's got a partner, we just chatted generally.

The quiet talker, is our Charlie. We have to have lunch some where relatively quiet so I can hear him.

First Day Back

I slept in a little, smoked cigarettes on my balcony and generally wafted into work, knowing that Beck wasn't going to be in until later in the day, but I still got there at 9.03. I even let an 86 go by so I could go to the newsagent to pay a bill. The secret is not to just stand there and wait for the next 86, the secret is to walk to Nicholson Street so as to be able to catch a 96 as well as an 86.

Busy tram, bug-eyed woman standing in front of the ticket machine, who moved an inch for me, as is usually the case. Pest, I thought. She looked a bit downy to me, but maybe it was just the unfortunate eyes – mouse hair, plain looks, dumb expression. Anyway, as I was mentally chastising her, I spied a vacant seat through the crowd and forgot her instantly, slid through the crowd in one movement and sat down.

As I got myself settled, I spotted through the crowd a handsome Asian boy, 6 foot, athletic, with thick sunnies on and the ubiquitous hand, in his pants, snugly fitted, fingers curled under, nice knuckles. Nice light grey pants fitting him well. Gotta love a boy in pale grey pants. He looked like he was on the pump in those pants, jutting out in profile, right in my line of vision. I imagined the black sweatiness, even if it was early in the day.

The tram was a little crowded so I gazed freely (I gaze freely, crowded or not) He looked over in my direction and then, as the crowd thinned, he walked over to me and stood in front of me, just on the other side of the door barrier. He looked straight at me (as straight as I could tell in sunnies) as if he knew, facing me so I could continue to gaze. Nicely fitted pants, I thought. He stood facing me, glancing at me as if to check if I was still looking. I was, through the gap in the door screen. Nice, I thought. It’s funny – and I could be imagining this, granted, but it happens often – how some guys tend to face me and not look away when I am on the morning gaze. He was gorgeous; black hair, olive skin, handsome face, nice hand in his strides.

I looked out the window and watched Bourke Street flash by. I much prefer the low rider trams, with the pedestrians at the same level, it seems cosier.

I need to get a man... or new porn in my life, I thought.

 

Now, If I Could Only Find One Thing To Write About

Now, if I could only find one thing to write about, it would be good. You know, something to take through to its completion. I have a million things started and half written, but finishing has always been my problem. That's where the hard work comes in. Inspiration is always at it's most powerful when I have can get lost in it, stop thinking and just write.

 

How About?

So how about this? David did my tarot – I'd been thinking about tarot for days, don't know why. So it was not as surprising to me, as it was David – which said that a boyfriend is in the picture (2 of cups) and that I don't, actually, have to do anything but wait. Gotta like those odds.

Backtrack slightly, I've been hanging out with a boy at work, Charlie, for some time now, without ever really thinking that there was anything in it. No, I did. He’s nice, but friend material, really. I don’t know, he’s the only new, gay guy in my life.

The two of us have been going to have lunch together for a while but, we get on well, he’s nice. The last time he, regretfully, cancelled, I wondered if there was more going on there than I had previously thought. Oh, I don't know, maybe it was the way he looked at me, with sparkling eyes, maybe it was the (unnecessary) nervousness of his plea, maybe it was just the body language, whatever? But I got a certain feeling from him I just don't get with most boys.

I don’t know, no.

So, I looked up his employment records – not so ethical, I grant you – and he is a Cancer.

Back to the present, the Cancer card was in the correct position on my tarot reading.

Really?, I thought.

We do smile and wave at each other in the office – something I'd never do normally.

We did spend the entire Xmas party dancing together.

We do have a rapport with each other that I don't have with other guys in the office.

We always end up chatting together at work drinks.

So, Charlie, huh? Well? He's funny and smart and well travelled and, well… shrug. Nah.

So...

Changing the Rules

Jimmy sat up in bed, inhaling sharply, grabbing the pillow to steady himself. He looked over at his bedside clock. Midday. He’d slept the morning away. Why was he dreaming about Westbro Man? He hadn’t thought about that in a long time.

The doorbell rang, it's shrill bell-like jangle. Jimmy jumped. Dived out of bed, pulling his track suit pants on as he ran up the hallway, half asleep. He looked through the peep hole. It was Warren jigging up and down on the souls of his feet.

He pulled the door open. The sun blinded and, at the same time felt warm on his torso. He shaded his eyes with the palm of his hand. Warren came back into focus.

"Hi," said Warren, standing at the front door.

"Hi," said Jimmy, still with the door handle in his hand. He suddenly became aware of it and let go of it. He felt a buzz in his stomach, as he saw Warren standing there.

"Jimmy Westborough, I presume," said Warren, making a gesture of bowing, but never really moving. Holding Jimmy's gaze.

Jimmy laughed.

Jimmy thought up the name of Westbro, it reminded him of the wild west. But it, actually, came from the fact that his family came from the West Borough. Warren said it reminded him of suburbia and apron strings and cut grass on Sundays and people without a clue. He couldn't get passed the borough connotation, it kind of bought him back down to earth, but Jimmy liked it.

"It reminds me of where I came from, you know," said Warren.

“It makes me think of power and the future and everything working out fine,” said Jimmy.

So, Jimmy Westbro it was. Action Man, he used to think, he used to fantasise about it.

He laugh again. 

He still had the tights and the green cape he wore to the fancy dress party, at the end of school, when he and Warren both went as super heros. He lost the g-string his sister had made him wear the night he went out as Westbro Man.

"Well, you can't have it all, you know, flopping about down there," said his sister. "You're my brother and I love you, but there are limits."

Jimmy thought of his sister and couldn't stop himself smiling. He wanted to say, can't have it messy down there, but didn't.

"Green Hornet, said Jimmy questioningly?

Warren's arch rival to Westborough Man’s arch rival was the Green Hornet. Not so much arch rival as sparing buddy. Warren thought up the environmental super hero to counter Jimmy's creation. His surname is Green, it wasn't such a stretch. It was boy's stuff, it had never meant so much, before. And hornets because of the vicious wasp/bee insects. 

Westbro Man lost his, er, sister’s g-string when the. Green Hornet pulled it off him drunkenly the first time down buy change rooms fancy dress night.

Warren cocked his head and spoke as if he spoke of a truth. "You have your mission..."

Jimmy swore he was sweating. "Should I choose... to... accept it?" Spoken deciseively.

They held each other's gaze and momentarily their peripheral vision stopped working.

"As usual, this tape will self destruct in ten seconds." Warren's monotone broke the trance.

"How did you pull up," said Jimmy. "How drunk were you?"

Jimmy so wanted to sound normal. He grimaced at the drunk connotation. Straight to it; the big black monster. Warren looked shiny.

"Yeah, drunk hey." said Warren. "Can remember much. Didn't see much of yesterday." 

“I thought I was gonna see more of you.”

“Yeah, I was hoping that too,” said Warren. “But too many beers.”

“Way too many beers,” said Jimmy.

“It was all I could do to get myself home.”

“I’m goin out to get food,” said Warren. You wanna come?”

“I wanna come,” said Jimmy

Warren smiled. “Come out and get food with me, so I can get my strength up, then we’ll…”

Jimmy loved Warren’s smile. “I’ve literally just got out of bed.”

“I need food.”

“I’ll have to get my shit together.”

“I can wait,” said Warren.

“I just…”

“Just put a shirt on.”

“I’ll need undies,” said Jimmy.

“I dunno,” said Warren. He smiled again.

“Ha, ha,” said Jimmy. “It won’t take me long.”

“Yeah, oaky,” said Warren.

Plumbers

Two boofy young plumbers turned up first thing. Solid. Blondish. Strapping. Twenty year olds. I instantly pictured the two of them drunk, wanking each other off, after drinks on a Friday night.

“I came home last night and fixed it,” I said. “Shane was supposed to have called to cancel.” How camp did that sound, I thought.

“Our boss has been in a meeting all morning,” they seemed to say, falling over each other. “No worries.” Well, that’s my fantasy.

Tim and Brad. They’d have sexy under wear on, I could see the elastic of which, that their girlfriend’s bought them. Hairy bum cracks, I thought, as they walked away.

They were both super nice, considering the situation. Tim was super friendly.

“Nice house you have here.”

“Thanks.”

“You can’t live here alone?”

“No, I have a couple of house mates.”

“Cool,” said Tim. He seemed just a little too friendly. Straight boys can’t win, if they are standoffish, they are homophobic, if they are really friendly, they are closeted. Still, I couldn’t help thinking that Tim may very well have a secret to share with his buddies somewhere down the track.

“We’ve got a job in Carlton, anyway,” said Brad. “So, no problem.”

I was surprised, but they were plumbers something to do with Shane’s work, so I guess it’s understandable.

Do you think they send the pretty ones to the gay suburbs? I wouldn’t be surprised. We get an array of gay porn star candidates through here masquerading as tradesmen. Or is that just me? Maybe?

How would the boss sound.

"Hey Brad, if you are going to Fitzroy, you guys better get into some tighter shorts."

"Yes, boss," says Brad.

"And put on a couple of those open hiviz jackets, try and show some more skin, will ya."

"Yes, boss," says Brad.

The Monkey is Back

You go off the pot and you go off porn. The head clears and you get things done.

Conversely, my bedroom floor is covered in DVD's. Must go clean up.

I locked myself away in my bedroom. Cancelled all calls.

It's that post-holocost haze out side, so hot it is burning the colour out of life. Everything and everybody has that burning, pinkish hue.

I left work early so I could race home and have a joint before I headed to the Art Centre to see a play – Tom Stoppard’s Rock & Roll – with mum. Pathetic, I know. Yes, I’m back to that point, yet again! It’s infuriating, in a sense, that I’m there again. Oh, how did that happen?

As I was walking to the tram, across St Vincent’s Plaza, David called me to say there was water pouring from the kitchen tap. I asked him if he knew how to change a washer? Knowing he wouldn’t. It amused me, I guess. He sounded nervous and said he had to go to class. We settled on him turning the water off and then going to class, with me fixing it when I came home.

Mum didn’t turn up at the play, nor was she answering her phone, which is normally a sign that she is on her way, when I called he repeatedly at curtain up. For the first time I had my own ticket, rather than her bringing them, so I went in. She would be sat at the back of the dress circle if she was late, but, I guessed, I could collect her at interval. I hoped she’d be all right. 

The play was about Communism and music in the sixties and seventies, Matthew Newton was in it – the boy has a big bulge in his pants. Mum never turned up. She said that she just couldn’t get it together and she didn’t know why she wasn’t answering the phone when I called just before it started. So, I left at interval to go home and change the washer.

Mum said she just couldn’t make it, something about losing her purse and then worrying that she had been robbed until she finally located the purse, but then she was too frazzled. She thought it was the night before, anyway. We usually go on Mondays.

When I got home the house was quiet, nobody was home. There was a note that Shane had called a plumber for the morning and that he was now at Phillips for the night.

I fixed the washer and went to bed. The note said it was both the hot and cold, which concerned me. But I changed the cold and that seemed to fix it.

I’ve been going to bed early, lately. Oh I don’t know why, maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s me.

20.47. I seem to have fixed the tap, if the plumber didn’t want to necessarily come in the morning – christian

Shane called back. He was to cancel the plumbers.

Would the Real Titania...

Washing on. Dryer humming. Stereo thumping. TV blaring, in the lounge and in Christopher's bedroom. Lap-top still on, on his bed, after a little early morning net surfing. Dishwasher chugging. Air-conditioning whirring. PC downstairs on, where he has been answering email and net surfing.

Christopher stopped in the middle of it all and laughed. Carbon footprint? He wondered if he believed the doomed theory, because then there was no hope and he didn't have to care? Or, was he a part of the problem and was he kidding himself along with the rest of the middle class. His jury was still out on that one.

He lit a joint.

The doorbell rang.

He waved his hands around in the air, as he stubbed it out.

He opened the front door to find a pretty, young girl standing on the other side. He expected it to be some religious nuts, or time share salesmen, or save the earth types. He brushed his hair off his forehead and smiled at the gorgeous girl standing in front of him. He'd been somewhat annoyed to be disturbed, but he was raining that mood back at lightening speed.

"'allo, I Titania." She smiled sweetly. "I vrite to you."

Christopher open and closed his mouth, nothing came out. He was stunned. Oh please, he wanted to say, but he stopped himself.

"Yes," he heard himself say instead.

"I vrite you?"

She was beautiful.

"You know?"

"Yes."

"You, Christopher?"

"Yes."

"I come stay vith you?"

It hadn't been a dream. He was surprised. Suspicious. Distracted. Delighted. He could feel himself straightening his back.

"Anna sent me."

It wasn't one of Anna's joke, after all. He'd been sure it was.

He could, literally, feel himself pulling his head back. He could feel his eyes getting bigger and it was as if he had no control to stop himself. She looked crestfallen.

"It not ok?" She was shaking her head.

She was a real person, he was saying it over and over in his head. He'd been sure it was Anna all along playing with him.

"Ok?" She asked softly, as though she had already worked out that the answer was that it wasn't okay.

There was silence, as the two looked at each other. Christopher shook his head. I guess I have to say something, he thought.

"Yes," he said. "Yes. Okay." He tried to smile, but he was wary that someone was going to jump out of the shadows and scream fooled you!

Titania smiled.

"Come in," said Christopher. "Yes, come in."

"I stay vith you?"

"Yes." He exhaled loudly. "I guess."

She smiled. She picked up her suit case and followed Christopher inside.

"It is so big," she said. "You must be millionaire."

"No, just a terrace house." Christopher tried to smile again, he felt his cheeks hurt as he tried. "Lots of Australians..." he showed her into the lounge room, at the rear of the house.

"You handsome as Anna told..."

"Would you like a drink? Or something to eat."

"Yes, of course."

"Have you just got here..."

"Huh?"

"Australia?" said Christopher. He took her suit case from her, their hands touched, her skin was smooth. She blushed. "Have you just arrived?"

"Yes. Yes. Just from Europe."

"I cook for you, I clean for you," said Titania. "You very handsome I..." she smiled coyly and touched her lips with her finger.

"Oh. Well?" Christopher could feel his cheeks burn red. "How, um, how long do you, um, want to stay?"

"I stay until you have me," she said. "And then I go, no problem." She smiled. "But I hope you happy to have me long time." She held his gaze, waiting for his answer.

"You can stay however long." Christopher didn't know what to say.

"Anna say you beautiful man. She say you very good. You know?" Christopher wasn't sure what the question was. Titania dropped her voice as though she didn't want anyone else to hear. She stepped closer."Anna say you enjoy me." She looked up at him with big eyes.

Christopher could feel his face blushing, beyond his control.

"She say I enjoy you, too?" Titania straightened his shirt, as though it was crooked.

Christopher could feel Titania's breath on his face she was standing so close.

"Do you know?" she whispered. "Anna say I look after you."

Christopher suggested they go site-seeing, walk, eat, breath in some fresh air.

Christopher took Titania to Lygon Street where they ate pasta. They drank wine and Christopher felt a little drunk by the time they left the table. They walked into the city and looked at the CBD.

"I need to walk off the wine," said Christopher.

"It such big city, Anna no tell me."

Christopher thought she was beautiful.

They walked home through the Exhibition Gardens. Titania took Christopher's hand. She cuddled into him, hugging his arm.

"It so beautiful," she said. "I lucky."

"It is beautiful," said Christopher. He didn't often take the time to enjoy the gardens, he was so often just rushing through. He looked at Titania, she was wide-eyed taking it all in. He felt so comfortable with her, as though he'd know her for a long time.

They walked under the elm trees toward home. A father played ball with his son. A woman walked her dog. A jogger sweated as he headed in the other direction.

"You know you don't have to do anything," Christopher said. "You can just stay. I'm happy for you to stay."

"I don't understand?" said Titania.

"It's okay," said Christopher. 

Nice Shorts

I went around to the shops, it was hot. Burning in the sun. I needed milk. A girl and guy were walking the other way, in shorts and singlets. They were both laughing and lost in each other. The boy had on thin blue cotton shorts and no undies. It was obvious; I could see him pushing against the inside of his shorts. More boys should. He had a nice, big, thick cock hanging down; circumcised, nice knob, I could see it clearly. He seemed to be oblivious, or he didn't care.

They passed by without even, seemingly, noticing me.

I thought, he might as well be wearing nothing. Nice it was too. I could see the folds in his skin.

The sun shimmered just above the road. A gentle breeze blew, blowing cold across the sweat on my skin. God reminding me of sin?

 

Seasons in Melbourne

It's amazingly hot in Melbourne.

Strange Conscience

I went around to get coffee beans, cherry muffins and some pot.

Max had laughed down the phone when I'd called him earlier. "What's happened to you, luv?" 

“Nothing. Why?”

“I thought you were swearing off the stuff?” 

“No.” 

So, I stopped off at Guido’s warehouse, where they were house minding, well, more than house minding, empire minding, I guess you might call it. 

And then I got a drug dealer with a social conscience. "I've got half bags for fifty, or I could even do a twenty dollar bag, just for you." Max's green eyes sparkled at me. "If you just want a couple of smokes.”

Max's boyfriend Tiffany, said from under a geometrical blonde bob, from the other couch. "Having a bad day, doll?"

When is Guido coming back, I thought, as I hesitated in indecision.

"No, not a bad day." I could feel my face spread with a fake smile. "No." I could feel butterflies in my stomach. "It's just my weekend off... and I just feel like it." Maybe you should change your smoking habits, if you are now justifying them to a man who can only have sex with other men dressed as Barbra Streisand, I thought. 

"I'll take the twenty dollar bag."

Straight out of Guido’s mouth. “Max can only cum if Tiff is singing People.” I smiled at the prospect. I looked at Max.

"You were doing so well," said Max's handsome Italian face looking up at me.

"Yeah, well," I said. "I still am."

"I can see that," said Tiffany's baritone voice. Then she did that annoying you-are-kidding-yourself laugh. You know that self righteous high ground they have no business occupying. I could see the track marks in his arm. 

“Yeah, well, I’ll have the usual bag, thanks.”

Otherwise, I'm just gonna be pissed off that I had come home with a bag with a few crumbs in the bottom. What was I thinking, listening to these two clowns? 

“Ah Guilt, god love it,” said Tiffany. Whatever that meant.

“Doing well,” said Max in a matter of a fact tone. Whatever that meant.

Are these two really the best people Guido could get to look after business while he is away god knows where, I couldn’t help but think. “So, $200?” I asked. I don’t know why I asked, I am fully aware of the cost of it by now. 

“Yep,” said Max. 

“Okay, let’s go,” I said. Even I heard the tone in my voice.

“Listen to her,” said Tiffany. “I’m surprise she isn’t clicking her fucken fingers at the same time.” Then he laughed a I’ve-smoked-too-many-fags-today kind of laugh.

“Oh, you sick of our sparkling company already,” said Max.

“No.” I couldn’t get these two bozos off-side, Guido was away for months, if I remember rightly. “You guys are great, always a pleasure.”

I ate the cherry muffin as I walked home.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

I went to see The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. It seemed interesting, what I saw of it. It was Friday night, the end of the week. I've worked two weekends in a row. We had a couple of joints before we went in, I was asleep within 10 minutes.

I'd also been to work drinks, hanging with Charlie. But throw in stubbies of Carlton, maybe three. Actually, it started at a farewell lunch, when I ordered a pint because they didn't have schooners not realising how much bigger pints were. Then not thinking that I'd get another pint when the guys went for more drinks. I wafted around the office all afternoon.

In the cinema, I tried to wake myself up so many times, but couldn't. The 'giving in' was glorious.

It's a pity, the movie was really interesting the way it was shot in the beginning from the eyes of a man waking from a coma, coupled with sleepy eyes. It was mesmerising. I was right there.

Apparently, the movie was great. Both Mark and Luke were impressed, telling me I had to go and see it again, as I stumbled to the car - thinking I was in Brunswick Street, only to have my entire reality spin when Lygon Street came into focus. Everything looked shiny and black and was moving fast.

Repeat Visit

14.40. How is ya day? – Eugene

14.43. So far so good. How’s your day? – christian

Do I want to go out and have dunny sex?

14.45. Ok. Bored n not interesting 😀 – Eugene 

14.47. That's no good u need something to excite you? – christian

Do I really want to go down this path?

14.49. I know. Tell me about it. But wat could excite me? – Eugene

14.51. What could excite you? It's a hard one? – christian

I thought that was really quite clever.

14.58. Don't know. Where could I find one? Wat a challenge! – Eugene

15.00. You are giving me a hard-on – christian

Is this leading him on?

15.01. Y is tat? – Eugene

Why do you reckon?

15.05. Who knows why these things happen ? – christian

15.08. Interesting. But no harm done. Not tat u need 2 do anything about it – Eugene

 I don’t think he gets my humour?

15.09. But, we have to relive your boredom? – christian

I’m leading him back on, again.

15.10. Ok fair enough. Wat can u suggest? - Eugene

Oops! Back there again. 

15.11. What do you feel like? – christian

15.12. Well, I'm a bit hungry and want some solid meat. lol – Eugene

15.15. You can't stay hungry. It's not good for you – christian

How do I get myself into these things.

15.16. Well. U gonna give me food? When n where? Very hungry now so can't wait – Eugene

How do I get myself out of them again?

15.20. I can't right now, I have a meeting in ten minutes – christian

Only to get myself back in, again.

15.21. Ah. tats no good! I'm now upset! – Eugene

Oops! Why do I do that? Lead them on when I don’t intend on doing anything?

15.22. 😀 – christian

15.23. 😀 I'm hungry! tats fine. Will not ask for u food again 😞 – Eugene

Goodness me, never again? Just like that?

15.24. But I want to give you food. Something big in your mouth – christian

Just not in a public toilet during work hours on a 38 degree day. I guess I should have said that.

15.26. U can't now so it doesn't matter 😞 – Eugene 

No. You’re right. It doesn’t. I can do it anytime at home with whoever I like.

15.27. Meeting will be short – christian

15.28. Oh ok. Got time? (smiley face) 

Meeting @ 15.30, was suddenly cancelled. The gods were smiling, or something. It was just Beck and the managers. Even better. Left unsupervised.

I met Eugene in the building next door’s toilets again 5 minutes later. I reckon Eugene was hard when he got there. Nice boy. Handsome. There is something really hot about getting to have sex with a guy in a suit. We both came pulling each other off as we kissed passionately.

My shirt was stuck right across my back as I walked back to my office. I headed out the back and had a smoke to allow the sweat to dry and the stickiness to disappear.

19.40

Oh god! I’ve been smoking joints all week on my balcony. What am I thinking?

There was a missed call on my phone from Leah. She likes to call me on her way home from work. I often miss her call. It’s in my bag. I don’t hear it. I’ve had it on silent because of Eugene’s calls. Beck gets so crappy about constantly annoying things, so easily.

60 Sicilian Men

 

Subject: Dead?

It was 60 Sicilians. 60, year 12 Sicilians – those of the shirts that don’t quite fit any more. Those of the pants that are now on the snug side. Sidies and hairy chests on most of them. A foreskin piece. 120 big, brown eyes. And 5 o’clock shadows on ever one. Young colts.

I’ve only masturbated through 50 of them. Ten to go, before you get a peep out of me.

(Christian)

Subject: NDY

I am working on 20 to 40 as we speak. Whoops, there goes the monitor AND keyboard.

Till then,

J(osh)

Later That Night

 Subject: Dead?

(Christian

I mention 16 Sicilians and deathly silence.

Dead?

How goes it you old mate?

Mole (virgin) (Josh)

I got home and no one was home. Oh, David was home initially, but soon left, not before catching me with a joint.

He went to class and I was home alone. What to do? Well, this stupid dope smoking is only going to last a couple of days, so I might as well make good use of the enhanced masturbatory component, I thought.

So, I was in bed, stoned and watching porn. I’d come home feeling tired. There was pot to be had. So, I headed to the swamp with a fist full of vitamin E cream.

SMS. 20.01. Hi chriso! Was just thinking of you! Hope you are well! See you soon! – Sebastian

Lovely, Italian, Sebastian.

SMS. 20.04. Yeah, see you soon, sexy boy 

I cringed at the "sexy boy" comment, after I had sent it. But, that's, actually, what I thought as I wrote the sms. So, send.

SMS. 20.04. 😀 – Sebastian

I lay in bed and jacked off and thought of Sebastian. I wanted to play with him some more. Flirt a bit. All innocent, really.

SMS. 20.31 We should smoke some pot some time – christian

SMS. 20.38. you read my thoughts… I tell you chriso... if I’m not doing anything soon for my actual life style… means just work… I’m really getting depressed! So where is the pot?? Grrr – Sebastian

SMS. 20.49 It makes you horny – christian

SMS. 20.49. Everything… so where is the pot? – Sebastian

You’re just a straight boy who’ll say anything to get pot.

SMS. 20.53. Everything? – christian

SMS. 20.57. Chriso 😀 I knew this question will come… love you! – Sebastian

Oo, too much. Crossed the line. Pull back.

SMS. 20.59. Just teasing you. Gay humour – christian

SMS. 21.02. I know… you will be always my special-favourite gayfriend! Only you can tease me – Sebastian

(Originally, in my stoned, off my bonce and barely able to type, state, I read that as “gayfriend only.”) Pull back more, bad christian! Bad christian!

But reading it back, it doesn’t say that at all.

In fact, what is he saying, I thought reading over it the following day?

SMS. 21.05. I'm just stoned – christian

SMS. 21.06. I should come over! – Sebastian

Nah, I’m in bed and comfortably numb. Even if I fantasise about the outcome, the reality will be me having to get out of bed and be nice and change everything.

SMS. 21.08. Ha, ha, I'm in bed – christian

SMS. 21.08. Shall I come in bed? – Sebastian

What, I thought? So I wrote the first thing that came in my head.

SMS. 21.09. I'd like to see that – christian

SMS. 21.10. Ha forget it… have to cook my pasta now! Sleep well! – Sebastian

SMS. 21.12. Sweet dreams. I know I will – christian

Too far? The judge is still out. I’ll have to wait until I see him again.

I wanked off over the thought him pulling himself off.

Over Lunch

Our eyes met over my salad lunch and his coffee with a friend. He hung behind just naturally, when his friend left, you know with those come hither eyes. 

We were in Little Bourke Street exchanging numbers in minutes. We text in the afternoon 

13.19. Nice meeting u. Coz idea where we can go during lunch? – Eugene

13.23. Nice meeting with you too. Where do you think we could go @ lunch time? – christian

13.28. Don't know. Tat's y I ask (smile face) All depends what u want to have for lunch – Eugene 

13.32. I reckon I could have you for lunch – christian

13.34. How? Lol. U look rather tasty too. What u into? U got email tat I can email during work time? – Eugene 

13.40.I can't really give you my work email address. I'm into the usual stuff - kissing, cuddling, sucking, f*cking, touching, hugging. What r u into? – christian

13.41. Kiss, hugs. Being f. (smiling face) wish I could give you a kiss back then. I need a good pash today. (smiling face) How old r u? – Eugene

13.44. I would have loved to kiss you too, would have been nice. I'm 30 – christian

13.46. Sweet. U manage to take 10 mins off this arvo? May I have a (kissing face) (smiling face)? – Eugene

13.48. Sure. My favourite thing is kissing – j

13.51. Anywhere we could meet up n do this? lol – Eugene

13.55. Can't say off the top of my head, but I would like to kiss you – christian

13.56. Let me think. Wat time is good 4 u? – Eugene

13.58. Oh, I guess any time, more or less – christian

13.59. Ok say 2. Give some thought to it. Will sms again b4 3 – Eugene

14.04. Cool – christian

14.05. Hey. Wat u do for living? If I may ask – Eugene

14.07. I do finance work. How about you? – christian

14.09. Bank – Eugene

Oh yeah, I thought. I’m going to go running across town to meet some guy in the middle of a work day. I don’t think so.

14.43. Ready? (smiley face) – Eugene

14.58. You thought of a place? – christian

14.59. Just a toilet block near u. Interested? – Eugene

15.01. Where? – christian

15.02. Meet me at where we swapped numbers. U ready now? – Eugene

15.05. Ok. How long will you be? – christian

15.06. Can b there in 3 mins once u r ready – Eugene

15.07. Shall I leave now? – Eugene

15.07. Ok – christian

15.09. Ok cya – Eugene

15.09. Sure – christian

We ended up next door in a toilet at the back of the building, later that afternoon.

15.32. Nice kiss. Lovely meat too lol – Eugene

15.35. You're nice to kiss, cute too. We should do it for real – christian

He's nice and all but has a boyfriend and can only have sex in toilets during the day. Can't be contacted after 16.00. So, I mean really. Nah. 

So, once was fun... 

Fuck me, I had never done that before. Who knew the 1st floor toilets in the next door building are a beat. My shirt was sticking to my skin as I walked back to my building, good thing I had my suit jacket to hide it. It took a while to get my concentration back. Truthfully. Chuckle. I just want to take a nap. 

The Next Day

Jimmy's head pounded, as he opened his eyes and let the morning day light seep in. The sun shone in from behind the curtains. His bedroom was quiet, he dared not move.

How much did he drink? Oh, he rubbed his forehead. Fuck! What did he do? With Warren? He got excited all over again, lying there in his crumpled sheets.

Was it a dream? He and Warren? Fuck me, he thought.

Was Warren setting him up? No, he couldn't have been. He was as enthusiastic as Jimmy. You don't set someone up by actually going through with it. You set some one up by looking as though you are going through with it, but then don't.

A dream come true? Is that what it really was? All he'd ever wanted. For how many years? Was it true? Could it be true?

Was he so drunk he dreamt it?

Would Warren remember?

He rubbed the corners of his eyes with his finger tips. Warren? Fuck me, he thought again. He couldn't get the smile off his face. He closed his eyes.

They just fooled around a bit until Warren wretched and passed out and dribbled and snored. Jimmy had left pretty soon after that, staggered out the door.

Did he knock over a lamp on the way out? He couldn't think about that now.

That last look back at Warren, his shirt unbuttoned, his arms over his head, was emblazoned in his memory. Would it be the last time he would see Warren? A view to remember him by?

He slid his hand under the sheet, no guilt.

Oh my god!

All he could feel was fear. It didn't mean I'm a poof, he thought, even though he suspected it probably did. It didn't mean... Warren was either. Just... best... mates, that's what it meant? He wondered what Warren felt?

Would he ever know?

Would he ever see Warren again?

Should he call him?

He wondered how long it would take Warren to call?

He started to shake. He suddenly felt cold. He sank down into the bed clothes and pulled the doona up around his neck.