110%

This is a strictly mathematical viewpoint...

it goes like this:

What Makes 100%? What does it mean to give MORE than 100%? Ever wonder about those people who say they are giving more than 100%? We have all been to those meetings where someone wants you to give over 100%. How about achieving 103%? What makes up 100% in life?

Here's a little mathematical formula that might help you answer these questions:

If:
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

is represented as:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26.

Then:

H-A-R-D-W-O-R-K
8+1+18+4+23+15+18+11 = 98% <>

and

K-N-O-W-L-E-D-G-E
11+14+15+23+12+5+4+7+5 = 96%

But,

A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E
1+20+20+9+20+21+4+5 = 100%

And,
B-U-L-L-S-H-I-T
2+21+12+12+19+8+9+20 = 103%

AND, look how far ass kissing will take you.

A-S-S-K-I-S-S-I-N-G
1+19+19+11+9+19+19+9+14+7 = 118%

So, one can conclude with mathematical certainty that While Hard work and Knowledge will get you close, and Attitude will get you there, it's the Bullshit and Arse kissing that will put you over the top.

'REMEMBER SOME PEOPLE ARE ALIVE SIMPLY BECAUSE IT IS ILLEGAL TO SHOOT THEM

Left & Right

The difference between right and left ideology, is that the right wing with often find fault, create problems, and lay blame to gain power, and when they gain power, they may, or may not fix the problems, real, or created by them to gain power. The left wing will identify the problems, accept the blame collectively, if that is what is required, and then fix the problems.

The Dead

I never think it is good for my soul to look at images of dead human beings. Those eyes with the life gone, that skin with the colour drained, those bodies with the flame snuffed out, can only give me chills, pull me out of my dreams, and give me a view of life that I have no right to see.

Hey Jack

I went out last night and met a nice country boy named Jack.

We get there at the same time; our eyes meet. He smiles sweetly; dirty-blond hair, blue eyes. Kind smile. I pick up my drink. He is next up and waiting. I step away from the bar; my head turns, meeting his gaze.

I pick up a cup and fill it with coffee.

When I look back he is talking to the barman; I head to the video room. It is quiet. There is a fat young man sitting against the old safe whose eyes follow me. I sit up the back in the dark. The DVD is stuck. Play, says the screen.

I can see some guys enter. The light is dim; I can only see form.

A body appears around the partition. There's that smile, again, as he squints into the dark. He is standing looking at me. He turns and disappears.

Nothing to see here, I think. I swig my coffee and head up stairs myself. The fat boy looks after me, still sitting against the safe.

The top floor is quiet. He's standing at the pipe wall. I walk passed him. His eyes follow mine.

I do a lap and stop back at the pipe wall. He's gone. He appears, seemingly, out of the dark. He sits and looks at me, a few feet away. He's got really nice eyes.

He gets up and disappears up a corridor. I watch him go. There's soul music playing; some black diva singing from the pit of her stomach.

I slide along the pipe, so I can see up the corridor he disappeared into. He steps out of one room and heads into another. I walk to the doorway. He is sitting on the bed, waiting.

"Hi, I'm Jack," he says.

"Hi Jack," I say.

"How are you?"

"Good."

"Come in." I step into the room and sit next to him.

"Do you come here often?" He laughs.

"No, not so much," I say. I look up at the fake walls with no ceiling. Dim light. "I did once, couldn't get enough of it. Cock on demand, you know."

"All those guys..."

"Only so many hours."

"Thank god, you talk." He smiles. "So many guys won't. I hate it when they carry on with the strong, silent type attitude."

"Straight boys," I say. "They're the ones with girlfriends..."

"Pregnant wives, they get toey," Jack says. "You see it back home..."

"Back home?"

"Ballarat..."

"Ah, the coldest town on the planet," I say. "The place where the weather, I'm sure, has never been over single digits, every time I've been there. The busiest place on a Saturday night is the local beat. Car heaters. Jackets. Have you always lived there?"

"Born and bread," he says. "A nice country boy, that's me."

"Really?" I say. I like that in a man. I think, considering I don't know if I ever met a boy from Ballarat, before. Bendigo. Golden Square. Oh yeah, that cocky young guy, full of it, with the black, black hair and the huge cock, who I picked up the top pf Bourke Street, comes to mind.

"Where do you live?" he asks.

"Just up the road."

"That's handy," he says.

"So, how often do you come here?" I ask. Handy?

He laughs. "No, not a lot. Probably twice this year," he says. "This being the second time."

"Yeah, me too. Same. I used to come lots. But now, not so much. Getting older, I guess."

"You're nice," says Jack. "Easy to talk to. I like you."

I laugh to myself. I like you too, Sunshine. I can't help but smile. You know that moment you realise you are attracted to someone. Blush. Sneak looks. That moment when you wonder if you are going to say anything.

"I like you too," I suddenly hear myself say."

"Good," he says. He reaches around me and closes the door.

We hang out afterwards. He's nice. Easy to be with. Handsome. Great kisser. He fills a pair of jeans well. We're going out for a drink next week.

The one problem is that he is six foot four. He's tall. I don't go for guys who are taller than me, generally. I'm five foot ten or eleven. Eye height or shorter that's how I like my men. Aby always said it was because tall men make me feel like a little girl. No, it's the eye thing, I'd say.

I make him stand down a step and he is perfect to kiss; sneaking kisses in a doorway in Smith Street. Straight couples catch us and smile. Parents walk passed, with kids, with straight faces. We laugh quietly, as the young son looks back at us. A group of straight boys could not help but smile and look away, shy.

I mean, we stopped kissing as they all approach, they'd have only seen fleetingly, if at all.

The rain falls softly. The world shines.

 

Initiation of the Dawn

Christopher was home alone. It wasn't often that he was, not since Anna went away and Titania came to stay. A day to himself, alone.

He was wobbly on his feet, dazed. He couldn't quite remember the previous twenty four hours. All he knew was that it felt good to stop. He sat back on the couch and looked out at the day through the sliding doors at the back of the house. His mother had always told him that a north facing garden was a must, so it was the first feature ticked off his list when he looked for a house to buy. As he gazed out at the golden, milky sun sliding through the turquoise sky, he was thankful for the light, shadows, the dawn, as he squeezed his legs together, it felt good.

Big pupils. Fixed gaze. Hand waved in front of face, no response.

It was early morning, he wondered where Titania was as he did with Warren and Jimmy. He'd lost them as they left the last club. Titania hadn't looked too good and he'd been worried about her. He'd told Jimmy not to give her that pill, but Jimmy hadn't listened. Christopher had meant to take her home, but somehow, he'd ended up standing on that footpath alone, suddenly. Where they'd gone, he hadn't had a clue. So, he got in the taxi, that just pulled up in front of him out of nowhere. He heard himself mumble Carlton, before the taxi took off at break neck speed up Collins Street.

Where the hell did they go, he thought? Closely followed by who was he with? Oh yes, Titania. It was Titania he was worried about.

He felt quite lop-sided, as he sat gazing off into space, on the couch. His eyes were heavy, hard to keep open. His face felt tight, like it was trying to take on another shape, like a shape-shifter, or beetles under the skin. The light was bright and he could only half open his eye lids. Bright light, disconnect, everything on an angle. Something was moving about in his pants. He jumped and then laughed. It was his hand, his own fucking hand. It felt like it was someone else's, which he, assumed, he should, actually, find appealing. Someone's hand in his pants, except the fucking thing scared him. Something. Fuck knows. He laughed. Throaty. Too many cigarettes. He didn't usually smoke, but they just seemed to go with the beers Warren was buying.

Jesus, fuck me, he thought. He put both his hands to his side where he knew where they were. Where he could see them. His head spun. His jaw shivered. He got the giggles, but he wasn't sure at what. Just the giggles. He slid sideways in the seat.

Suddenly, he needed a piss, he fell over as he got up, landing on his stomach. He wasn't sure that he hadn't pissed himself. He slid his hand down feeling for wetness but there was nothing. He lay his face on the carpet and wondered if he'd ever be straight again. He felt like he was sinking, face first, down a tunnel, which felt good. He leant forward, as if to slip away...

He pushed his hard cock into the carpet, rode his body onto it and thought it wouldn't take much. He rolled his hips, pushed forward on the shaft. Rolled over it. Rolled over it again. His shoulders shook, the shake vibrating down through his hips, hard-on, legs. He clung to the pillow with both arms. hold tight. Pushed forward and held it. He groaned. Exhausted. He closed his eyes and lay his head sideways across the pillow. He pushed gently from his thighs. It felt good, as he slid into sleep.

"Christopher?"

"Christopher?"

Someone was saying his name. It was dark, the ice caps were melting. The flying pterodactyls had disappeared, for the moment.

"Christopher."

He could feel a hand on his shoulder. He was being shaken gently.

His eyes felt crusty, stuck together. There was something rough on the tip of his nose. It felt coarse, like thick, woollen material, or carpet. Where was he? He jerked his head backwards and remembered he was laying face down on the rug.

"Christopher, you vake. Oh good." It was Titania, she was gazing down at him, sweetly. Her face went in and out of focus.

He got up. He sat back on the couch. 

"I lost you," croaked Christopher's voice. It was so croaky he wondered momentarily if it was he, or somebody else, speaking.

"It crazy," said Titania. "People pushing, people come, people go. Jimmy & Varren vanted something, I don't know and vhen I looked round you not there."

"When I looked around." Christopher sat up. "You were gone... too."

Tatiana climbed into Christopher's lap and her lips were suddenly on his. They were kissing, unexpectedly. Her short skirt rode up around her hips, her moistening panties pushed down on him. "I miss you," she said. "I vant you. Don't leave me again."

Blood exchange now complete. Switch brain to standby. All valves open. Drop balls. Precum, operational. Only lips engaged in head circuitry. Full thrust!

Tatiana is breathing in his ear, right up close. She is saying something about how good she knows it will be. And she’s fiddling with his belt at the same time. Then the buttons in his jeans. She’s telling him how she has always fancied him, which is a surprise to Christopher. Really Tatiana, he thinks, but she is kissing him passionately and that is all he can really think about, how soft and sweet and nice her lips are on his, she is warm. She feels good in her arms. Then he realises he is inside her, and she is gripping him, and she feels tight and warm, and he feels held by her. She is telling him how good it feels and how she has wanted exactly this all night from him ever since Jimmy gave her that first pill, and Christoher is surprised that he never picked up on it.

Thursday Night at the Laird

Smoked crystal with Shane and headed to the Laird last night. There was a good DJ playing. David followed later. His finger's twitched when he saw the crack pipe, as we all call it. He had a problem with it once and now he can't. But you should see how interested he got in every stage of our process, couldn't take his eyes of us - grinning, wide-eyed. Are you going to have more? he said, when we looked like we'd finished.

Laurence, a friend of David and Shane, was meeting us there, with his date Michael – who, apparently, didn’t turn out to be so interesting, so we didn’t get to meet him. Laurence lived in London, with David, when they were both pups and have now known each other for years. Shane and Mark W. picked Laurence up and had a threeway with him, in Perth, some time ago, not sure why Perth, as Laurence lives in Sydney. Then Laurence picked up Mat at Mardi Gras, some time later, who told him he was having a torrid time in a threeway in Melbourne and Laurence worked out who Mat was by what Shane had told him. Then Laurence met up with David, old friends catching up when David was going out with Shane, as the new boy friend and parts of Laurence's life crashed into each other, right before his eyes.

Shane’s friend, Christian, from Perth, was also at the Laird. Shane and I hung out with him mostly, he's lots of fun. Christian is cute and cheeky and chatty. He said, he wished they had a bar like the Laird, in Perth. I’ve got to move here, he said. He's got the spark to just go up to anyone and start up a conversation. We'd often look around for him and there he'd be across the other side of the room chatting away. Maybe that’s a part of being a small town boy? Part of, what's become, their charm?

Shane forgot the joints and had to go home to get them. We'd drunk lots of beer, I just can't drive to a bar, especially one that is in walking distance. But Shane just got in his car and drove home and back, not a problem.

We stayed late in the beer garden. Christian resumed chatting up sexy Nick... whose cock he slipped out of a black jock strap, which was under his camouflage chaps, playing with it in the court yard. Nice dick, huge balls, sexy Nick, while we all passed the joint.

Off drugs, I’m not so cheap, said Nick, in his deep husky voice.

No joint for Christian though, doesn't drink, take drugs, drink tea or coffee, or hit up with sugar. He drank water all night and was the liveliest one of the lot of us. Thinking about it, he kept the sparkle in his sexy eyes, while we all turned glassy-eyed stares. The whole drug thing is really a myth, when you look at it and it's got a shit load of people sucked in.

But, then again, as I like to say, it's been like that since time began, when the first caveman sucked at an Oleander Bush, for the first time. Britain fought wars with China over them. It's as old a prostitution and you know what they say about that? The modern day scourge thing is a modern day construct, after we got governments and corporations who needed to control the thinking of the masses.

I know I'm saying two things here, that they don't work that we're probably more together off them... and that we've evolved on them, but what do I care, I'm off my head.

Got home late. Smoked a shit load of pot. Slept all day.

P.S. I woke up at 8pm, Friday. Watched Project Runway with David and woke up on the couch 4am Saturday morning.

I pinched the photo from eMack, I hope he doesn't mind. But, is this guy hot, or what? Facially, he looks like my ex-boyfriend Lauri and he has Manny's body, hairiness. And he has Lauri's bulge. What a combination Lauri and Manny, I think I just precum in my pants.

Brave New World

We're so technologically advanced and have evolved to such a point today that most of what we do depends on secret passwords. Maybe I'll make mine Abracadabra.

Or should that be Simsalabim!?

Morning Tram

There was a gorgeous olive-skinned boy, on the tram this morning, in a blue suit that fitted him so well. He was standing right next to me sitting. I loved those tell-tale darts in his pants, the ones that came in from all corners; up from the legs, down from the hips, finishing at the bump pushing out his fly. I could have taken it in my mouth, by leaning forward just a little.

I looked up at him. He was looking at me. He looked away.

I looked out the window and then looked back at him. Our eyes met. He smiled. I looked back out the window.

I could see him out of the corner of my eye, look down at the front of his pants, rolling his pelvis forward, subtly, as he looked down. Then he looked out the window on the other side of the tram.

Demetri

I ran my hand through his curly, black hair, scratching his head from front to back. He moved his head around languorously, in my palms, purring silently. As my hand slid to the crown of his head, he looked up at me with those big, sleepy, brown eyes and smiled, dreamily.

"Yes, just like that," he whispered. "Mmmmm, just like that."

His hair was think in my hands - it certainly made me think - er, thick in my hands.

My fingers tips tingled with the touch of his scalp.

I breathed him in, he smelt like soap and sex appeal.

He purred at my touch.

I purred touching him.

39 Steps

I went to see The 39 Steps, with Lottie, tonight. It was funny. It was clever with the actors playing multiple roles, often simultaneously. It was amusing the way stage-hands played the props, often changing in front of the audience's eyes. The actor's, at times, gave instructions for the props to appear and disappear, almost as if they were ad libbing, which was kind of charming.

Amusing spoof. Good dialogue and old fashioned fun.

Emus

Mark called around midday to say that the newly acquired emus were escaping and he needed someone to help him fix the wire on the orchard, where he is keeping them. Would I come up?

I was heading out over the undulating farm land passed Digger's Rest. Up over the hills, along the black ribbon of a road, under the clear blue sky and the sparkling sun stretching far ahead of me. As I came over one hill, there was a white 405 MI16 in the left hand lane, exactly the same as the one I used to own, which went up in flames. As I pulled up next to his driver's window, he smiled and I gazed at his handsome, blond, lightly bearded face, as he waved. I slowed down and pulled over into the left lane, just passed the car that was in front of him, which was the equivalent of getting down on my knees and sticking my arse in the air.

Come on, come on, I thought. I'm bored.

His right hand indicator came on, not long after and the Peugeot pulled into the right lane and accelerated. I pulled into the right lane, in front of him and we drove up the highway, fast, two by two, one behind the other. It was fun. I guess, boy's fun.

Day Break

Warren had his arm resting over Jimmy's shoulders, as they shuffled along Victoria Parade. They were shirtless and Warren was drinking in Jimmy's skin through his - strong, soft. Warren was warm and alive and feeling no pain.

"A couple of poofters, who'd have thought," said Warren. He barely felt a twinge as he said that word. He didn't care. No inhibitions in the first, breeze of the morning.

Jimmy turned his head and kissed him. "Fuck, hey!" Jimmy smiled, his face was red. "What am I gonna tell mum?"

They walked through the Exhibition Gardens. The mist was starting to lift. Light was beginning to form.

"I don't care..." said Warren. He broke away and felt a huge surge of power, adrenalin, amphetamine. "I DON'T CARED," he yelled up into the upper most branches of the giant elms. "I DON'T CARE!" He spun with his arms out.

Warren rushed and grabbed Jimmy, feeling a surge of lust for him. They fell onto the grass together. "I want to have sex." Warren could feel his cock go hard." Right here and now." He rubbed his dick against Jimmy.

Jimmy laughed and pushed him away. He couldn't get the smile off his face, as he looked up and down the path. "Steady on buddy." Jimmy's face flushed with a smile, as he held Warren's gaze. Warren had never seen him look sexier. "Soon," Jimmy whispered. His face was pulsing in Warren's eyes. His eyes were barely open.

Jimmy ran off whooping. Warren sprinted after him. Warren felt like the Six Million Dollar man as he took off. His lungs were burning as he and Jimmy collapsed onto the cold grass one hundred metres away.

Jimmy tried to scramble away but Warren grabbed his hips and buried his face into Jimmy's shorts. Jimmy smelt like soap powder and sweat. Jimmy whimpered. Warren could feel it through his face, a kind of purr, through Jimmy's body. He was solid against Warren's face. He slid his hands over Jimmy's stomach up to his nipples, which he squeezed.

"Ahh," said Jimmy deep and low, as he sat up and rubbed Warren's hair, his head still in Jimmy's lap.

"You should see the sun rise," said Jimmy.

"I am," said Warren's muffled voice.

"It's beautiful," said Jimmy.

"Mmmm," said Warren.

They walked across the lawn towards Nicholson Street, each sneaking looks at the other. Catching each other. Laughing, coyly. Looking away. Looking back, the moment they each got a chance. Gazes held. The world revolved around them.

"We should tell Christopher," said Jimmy.

"Don't you think he already knows?" said Warren.

"Why would he?"

"After last night..."

"Why last night?"

"Besides." Warren laughed. "Titania has probably told him."

"Oh my God, Titania," said Jimmy, covering his face with his hands. "I'd tried to forget about... um, her... that."

"I don't care," said Warren. He ran between the giant elms, with his arms outstretched. "I'M A POOFTER!"

The morning was breaking through. The sun was beginning to cast shadows on the ground.

Jimmy walked after him. "Hey, before you tell the whole world..."

"JIMMY'S GOT A SORE ARSE!" yelled Warren. "WOOHOO! FIRST TIME!"

"HEY!" wailed Jimmy. 

“Well deny it.”

“Shut up.” 

Zoom, Zoom.

I left work early and headed along Spencer Street to pick up my car. New clutch, new main engine oil seal, new ball joints, driver side driving light, left-hand side parking light, recalibrated temperature gage, all things the R.A.C.V. missed. (If I haven't said it for a while, the R.A.C.V.'s mechanical checks aren't worth the paper they are printed on)

When I was nearly at the mechanics, a car came along Spencer Street behind me. That sounds good, I thought, as I looked around, it was mine being test driven.

The only thing left to do now, said Tony, is the exhaust, as he handed me the keys, just before I headed out the door. The proper exhaust will make a difference to the performance of the car. It'll get more air.

I wondered, what kind of exhaust note we could work on with the new exhaust, as I stalled the car twice, as Tony laughed. New clutch, he said.

Big difference, the new clutch, just goes to show how knackered the old one really was. I gunned it up Dudley Street, in celebration, slipping around the markets with the gentle GTI push in the back. Nippy and quick.

Zoom, zoom!

Nobody was home. I headed to bed around 20.30, I had new porn to watch, even if I wasn’t really going to admit that.

A group of people came home not long after. Chatted, played music, the smell of pot drifted up the stairs. They went out, came back about 23.00, then left at midnight, altogether. I should have got up. I should have gone down to chat. They probably went to The Laird. I should have gone too. Ah, well.

 

Day Off

I started the day with a joint. I wasn't going to, had too many things to do. But, there I found myself at the mull bowl, mulli in hand. I was trying to be so quiet and I thought I was succeeding, until Shane announced. "You wouldn't be starting the day with a smoke, would you?"

Doh!

I told him that I hadn't been sure about coming clean, or not?

"I guess you just have," he replied.

David's gone to Sydney, for some crack-whore conference.

9.05am, good thing the mechanic isn't too far away. My mechanic doesn't open until 9am. Very civilised. Gotta rush.

In a split second decision, I decided to take La Trobe Street, instead of heading down Victoria to Dudley. 9.15, how much traffic could there be? It was the wrong decision, I have to conclude. Plain sailing until Queen, then almost bumper to bumper. Grrr!

Whoosh! head spins, as I walk back along Spencer.

Have guys suddenly got a lot cuter? Or is it me? Woof! Every where I looked, as the 86 sailed up Bourke.

Got home around 10am. Ate muesli, drank coffee, be still my beating head.

I managed to get down to Smith Street and get my hair cut. First time at the barber. My haircuts have gone up to $50, so I decided to try somewhere else. It seems all my mates are going to barbers, now. Short hair.

And, how cute is Sam of Fitzroy. Just my type. Dark, hairy, woggy, nice arse.

I looked in the mirror and my eyes looked like fire beacons. Half closed, but. (I managed another joint before I headed out for hair) I looked wasted. Sick, even. I kept my eyes down, after that. Which, was pretty much where Sam's full crotch was located. So, win, win!

Soldier on with Codral.

Pale Blue Bather...

It's all In the Smile

Young wog boys, twenty something for those who need to be specific, have sunshine in their faces. When they pass you in the street, your can almost smell the olive's in the Mediterranean. Black hair. White teeth. Often with "that" swagger.

Movies

Movie with best beginning – Shortbus

Movie with best ending – Dirty Rotten Scoundrels

Movie with the best bitchin – Dangerous Liaisons

Movie with the most screaming – Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf

First Adult Movie – Whatever Happened to Baby Jane

Best Sharing Movie with Dad – Duel

Movie with the best Cheese Cake recipe – The Effects Of Gamma Rays On Man In The Moon Marigolds

First Dirty Movie Watched With Your Parents – The Pornbroker

First Movie At The Drive Ins – Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

First Movie for gay sex - Crusin – Toorak Drive In with Alex

First Adult Movie with Mum and "the Girls" – What's Up Doc

Love Song

I went to see Love Song @ M.T.C. I liked it. I thought it was captivating. Wonderful dialogue, even if I did think, initially, that the American accents were going to annoy me, but they didn't. All the four actors were strong, engaging. We were in the smaller theatre, practically in the round, which was good for this play, you could see their faces. Not to take anything away from the two girls, but I thought the two boys were really good – strong and natural.

Suddenly it was interval, suddenly it was the end. I was lost in it in both halves. I was disappointed that it had finished, both times.

Where Am I?

Jimmy and Warren were loaded when they got there. Their tongues were too big for thier mouthes. Their eyes were practically closed. They kept touching each other and then stepping away, as if they forgot they were in public. They looked out of it.

"Ve catch up," said Titiana, smiling, tilting her head towards the two boys.

"Sure," said Christopher laughing.

She was buzzing already, they'd taken pills before they left his house. Christopher fumbled with a bag he took from his pocket.

"So, what did you say to Anna, over that toilet seat in Moscow?"

She took the pills from Christopher. "I vant to shag Australian boy," she said. "She just told me she from down under." She washed the pill down with bottled water. Christopher had a beautiful smile, she couldn't imagine what effect he'd have on her, once her second e start to work. "Vhat else you say with cocaine, all shit." She laughed. "But you get to meet people." She raised her eyebrows. "Everybody do it. Vorld over."

Titania woke to bright sunlight in her eyes, the bed shaking and the sound of grunting. She didn't know where she was, it all looked hazy and unfamiliar. She blinked her eyes a few times

"Ahh! Ahh!" She vaguely remember leaning on Christopher's broad shoulders.

She looked side ways to see Warren's bare arse and thick, hairy legs. Jimmy was sniffing amyl.

Tilting her head further, she could see Warren's thick, slimy cock sliding in and out of Jimmy's hairy arse, quickly, in short strokes. "Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah!" It reminded her of how she was traumatised by two dogs doing it on her nature strip, as a child. She was 4. She thought one dog was killing the other.

She looked away and closed her eyes tight.

"Ahh! Ahh! Yes! Yes! Ahh!"

"Do you like my big cock?" says Warren breathlessly.

Titania remembered dancing on the dance floor with Christopher, Warren & Jimmy. She didn't remember anything after that. It was all a blank. She's had an awful lot to drink, she remembered that much. Jimmy had given her a pill. Or was that Warren? Where was Christopher?

She got up on one arm and her head throbbed violently. "Oooo," she said.

"No, no!" said Jimmy pleadingly. "Don't stop!"

"Titania's awake," said Warren.

"What? Ignore her... for fuck's sake!"

Titania groan again. She could feel her mouth go dry, as her stomach heaved.

"I'm going to be sick," said Titania.

"Fuck!" said Warren. "Straight through that door." He pointed towards the en suit, trying desperately to cover himself with a sheet.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" said Jimmy.

Titania threw herself off the bed in the direction of the white enamel door. "Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! wailed Jimmy.

The splatter was enormous, the back splash was quick. It felt like her entire stomach had emptied out, lining and all.

The porcelain was cold on her arms, as her stomach continued to spasm and she continued to heave, despite there only being a trickle of saliva, by this stage. She stared down into the curdled milk and diced vegetable and tuna casserole that slid splattering from her throat. It smelt sour and acidic, a cross between water lapping around a pier and hot, spoiled cheese. Her throat burned, he stomach ached.

She could feel the asheness of her complexion and the feebleness of her limbs. She was hot and sweating. Her hair stuck to her forehead.

She struggled to her feet. Wiped her mouth. Winced at her reflection in the mirror – Panda Eyes, pale complexion, looking tired – and headed for the door.

Warren and Jimmy were sitting side by side on the bed, dressed in track suit pants. Warren looked sheepish. Jimmy looked out of it.

"Vhere's Christopher?" she asked.

"He went off with some fucking drag queen," said Warren. "Christopher can be so naive, sometimes."

"When do you think he found out?" said Jimmy mischievously.

"I don't know, but I would love to have seen the look on his face."

"Vhat drag..." Titania's stomach rolled over and gurgled. "quin." She felt it rising in her throat, again. Hot and dry in her mouth. She got to her feet. Her skin was instantly hot, sweating. She turned and launched herself towards the bathroom, again. She covered her mouth and she took her second step and caught the bile in her hand. The room whited out again, but she concentrated hard and made it to the white bowl, collapsing on the rim with both her arms.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh," she wailed, "I vant to die! Dead!" Her voice choked in her throat as her stomach heaved again.

"Are you, o..." started Jimmy.

"Don't say it," said Warren.

“We were kidding about Christopher,” said Jimmy.

“We lost him,” said Warren.

Sexy Chrishna Boys

Sexy Hari Chrishna boys, 6pm Friday night, Bourke Street mall.

Playing drums, being the brightest noise on the block.

Dark hair blue eyes, blond hair sparkly eyes; white robes, orange robes.

They made smile, as they smiled and sung,

Playing a triangle, playing a drum, the beat of life, the beat of fun.

In time, in line, as one. Handsome, painted faces.

I could see them emanating golden energy when they were done.