Next time I saw Craig was at the town carnival, whose beer halls explained his inebriated state. He draped an arm around my shoulders, like a drunken sailor, and told me what an awesome swimmer I was. Then he related the same thing to his mates. They were pretty trashed as well. However, I appreciated Craig's new sentiment because I liked him despite his inflated ego. In any case, he had a wicked bod. Gawk!
After seeing Graham and his girl home that evening, I walked Melanie to her place. Her mood was incredibly sexy. She asked me to stand while she undressed me, then kissed my body all over. She sure knew how to make a guy feel ten feet tall, and almost as long. "I want to reward you for your swimming success." We had awesome sex. I figured if the rewards were gonna be that good, my swimming would improve accordingly.
Brett phoned Saturday night and again the following night. "Cool! So what's this--be kind to Kyle weekend?"
"I told Candy about your swim. I'm so proud of you, mate, I just wanted to tell you that."
"Thanks. You just topped off a perfect weekend for me." Then I told him about Melanie's `reward'."
"She's good for you, Kyle."
"Yeah, she keeps me fit."
"That's not what I meant! She's good for you because she keeps you balanced! Candy does the same for me."
"Good sex, huh?"
"I'm gonna call you `One Track' from now on. And by the way, she is an animal."
"So are you."
"So, you can imagine."
"No ... I'd rather you tell me."
"She gives me a swelled head."
"I said SWELLED...head."
"She tells me it's the best sex she ever had. And most of her boyfriends have been older than her."
"I think she likes that thick, sticky power pole of yours inside her. Maybe her other boyfriends had weenies."
"You're disgusting ... but you know that already."
"Yeah, cool, huh? Eat her out yet?"
"She blow you?"
"Want me to blow you?"
"Maybe I can send her to you to give her lessons."
"That bad, huh?"
Brett responded by cracking up. "That's not what I said."
"So what are you saying?"
"You gave me the best blow jobs I've had. There, happy now? Huh? Huh? Huh? Aquaboy?"
"He's cool," Brett laughed. "Heavy sometimes, but cool."
"Tell him not to rest all his weight on you."
"Fuck you! Fuck you, Kyle! Jesus!"
"Hey...kidding. So he's still massaging you with coffee in the mornings?"
"No, he uses his fingers."
"Har-de-har. I wish it were me doing it in the mornings. But I know you'd get me into your boxers."
"He told me the other day he would wake me by putting ice down my boxers."
"So you told him you'd break his arms."
"Nah...didn't say anything. He wouldn't dare try that."
"How's his girlfriend?"
"Up and down. Some days she speaks to me, other days she treats me like shit. But, hey, she's gotta learn to deal with it. Her boyfriend and I are good mates. That's it."
"He must be doing shit to make her react to you like that, though."
"The other night, Candy and I had an argument on the phone, so I went for a walk and stayed out for a few hours. He drove his car to search for me. When I arrived home, he burst into tears because he was worried that something might have happened to me. He gave me this huge hug while she sat on the couch, watching."
"Yeah, well, I feel for him, you know. He treats me like a king here. And, yeah, maybe he feels more for me than he should but I can't hurt him."
"He still talk about the two of you? Like in touching and stuff?"
"Yeah, but he says those things in a joking manner now--like the ice in my boxers."
"Hey, if he's good looking, he can put ice in mine."
"Isn't that thing of yours small enough already? Ha, ha, ha, ho, ho, ho, he, he, he!"
"I gotta jet, Kyle. I just wanted to tell you how awesome I feel about your winning that race."
"Thanks for calling. When are you getting your cell phone?"
"Okay. Love ya."
"Me too, mate. See ya."
How cool was that? Phoning me just to say how proud he was of my win at the swim gala! His comments about Fingers were also fascinating. This wasn't the same Brett, no way. I remembered the first convo we had about his initial offer of a job in Perth. He would have known if the guy was gay, he said. Yeah, right. And now? Now it didn't bother him. He knows Fingers is crazy about him but he doesn't want to hurt his feelings. Talk about mellowing almost overnight. And I'd given him the best blow job he'd ever had? Whoa! Come back to Byron, Brett, like now!
All the guys at the surf shop called me Kyle Spitz after I told them about my win at the swim meet. And when I mentioned to my boss my plan to continue swimming at school, he gave me a brand new pair of Speedos and goggles for free. "I need guys in the store who do sport," he explained. "They know what they're talking about when they serve customers."
My bicycle had had little use since my interests broadened to include `adult' stuff like girlfriends. I, nonetheless, managed to dust it off, oil it, and get it working again to accompany Graham on his training missions for the upcoming cycle tour.
I told Brett about it, and blasted him for not phoning more often.
"Yeah, well maybe our friendship means more to me than you," I bitched.
"Oh, for fuck sake, Kyle, don't start now, okay?"
"You know what I hate? I hate not being able to contact you. What's happening about the bloody cell phone?"
"I don't have one yet."
"So what's the number there?"
"I don't want people calling me on this number."
"Why? You worried Fingers might hit on me or something?"
"I just don't want guys phoning me here." Then he spat the dummy. "Oh, fuck! I'm outta here."
"Wait, wait, wait!" I pleaded, realizing I'd pushed him too far. "I'm sorry. What have you been up to?"
"Working my ass off. But it's cool. Took Candy to a club in Fremantle on Saturday night."
"Cool. Sound's like you're getting into the scene over there."
"Candy and I have a few friends, but during the week I work all day and night, so it's just the weekends we have together."
"You really must stop that!" he protested. "I almost called him Fingers the other morning by mistake."
I cracked totally at hearing that. "He still brings you morning coffee in bed?"
"Yeah, he hangs around me whenever he's here."
"No ice in your boxers yet?"
"No shit, Sherlock. I think he knows the consequences of trying that. He started wrestling me the other morning. He's a strong bugger, too."
"Hope you were dressed."
"He tickled my ribs while he massaged me. He wouldn't stop, so I stood and grabbed hold of him. I was still wearing boxers, for Christ sake."
"Bet he enjoyed that."
"So what? It's cool ... almost like having a dad."
"Except your dad wouldn't sport a boner if he wrestled you."
"Hey, can we have a bloody normal conversation here, just for a change?"
"How can we have a normal convo if I'm not normal?"
"That's for fucking sure," was the pissed-off reply. "What do you expect, Kyle? Huh? I phone you to catch up on the Byron news but everything with you revolves around sex. Oh, damn, I gotta go."
"Did he hear what you just said?"
"Yep ... cheers."
"Was he standing there listening to your phone convo?"
"Not sure. I gotta move. I'll phone during the week."
"I'm missing you here. Love ya."
"Same here. Cheers."
When I hung up, I stared at the silent phone and wished I hadn't said some of the things I did. How bloody dumb. But there was a problem I couldn't control. Every time I spoke to Brett on the phone, I felt depressed about his being so distant. Sure, it was cool to hear his voice, but I couldn't resist getting a little bitchy, which upset him, and which was the last thing I wanted. Damn it!
Despite my reticence to annoy my best mate, I phoned his previous workplace at the Gold Coast and asked for Brett's new number. Whammo! I studied the piece of paper with those magic digits written there and thought, `There you are, you elusive bastard, right there at the end of those numbers.'
As I punched the phone keypad, I knew it was a big risk. My stomach churned with a strange mix of fear and excitement. But I wanted--no, needed--to apologize for the remarks I made the last time I spoke to him.
After a couple of rings, a guy answered, then called for Brett. Should I hang up while I still had the chance?
"Kyle? How the hell did you get this number?"
"I got spies everywhere."
"No, seriously, it's cool that you phoned but who gave you the number?"
"Your old boss."
"Okay, so you're not just a pretty face. Actually, you're not even a pretty face."
"Har-de-har. I'm sorry about the other night. I miss you, and I won't call this number again, promise. And I promise I won't talk about sex. I'll just masturbate while I'm talking to you and you won't even be aware."
"Do you have the slightest idea of just how disgusting you are?" he asked, but couldn't hide the sound of his laughter, which was a huge relief for me.
"Sorry. What was that? I didn't hear."
"Because you're not concentrating."
"Okay, seriously, how's it going?"
"It's actually going really well. The work is good. I finish up late at night covered in dirt. The best part is taking a shower then chilling with a beer before I turn in. I've lost some weight because of the heat in the warehouse."
"Warehouse? I thought it was like some farm place."
"Not quite a warehouse, rather a huge shed covering the boat. It needs to be broken into pieces when the boat is finished."
"So you're getting all skinny now?"
"Nope. Actually, I've buffed up. But any extra weight I had is gone."
Extra weight? Yeah, right. Brett was always lean and mean, bloody perfect if you ask me, and I couldn't help but visualize his awesome bod as we chatted. "You had no extra weight. You were all muscle."
"Even I can see that I'm more cut now. The work here is helluva physical but it's enjoyable. I wish you could make a plan to visit for a while, Kyle, if you can manage some time off or something. You'll be impressed with this yacht."
"Yeah, because they got a good guy working on it." I was tempted to say the yacht was not the only thing that would impress me, but I held my tongue.
"You always did work hard."
"How are things there with you?"
"I coach the junior swimmers at school."
"Great. And the shop?"
"Some of the guys hassle me because they stuff around or go for a smoko while I keep working. They think I'm ass-creeping."
"Bugger `em. Just do your own thing. Any more diving?"
"Don't mention it. My boss hasn't SCUBA dived for ages now, and he's talking about diving Thailand or some place with his family. How are things with Candy?"
"Very good friends and lovers but not committed to anything long term. She's pretty much a career person, and works late hours. We get along well, though, and look forward to seeing each other on weekends. You'll like her. How are your folks and Melanie?"
"Folks are cool. My dad gave me a hard time the other night about my drinking, but I think he was aggro about something else...just a downer mood. He told me I'm a bad influence on Graham."
"Graham's a lighty. He can be such a toss sometimes. Hey, if it weren't for you he'd be a crackhead right now."
"He's a cool lighty--just needs someone to talk to. I think his folks are helluva straight and don't discuss any controversial issues with him."
"So now you're his dad? C'mon, Kyle."
"You know what Graham's like, and how he looks up to me. I like to be there for him."
"Yeah? Next thing he'll be getting you to check his homework instead of his folks doing it."
I decided not to mention that that was already the case. "Yep, I'm still putting a smile on Melanie's face," I laughed. "She misses you, though."
"She said that?"
"She misses the old times, I think--all of us hanging together."
"She and Susan still an item?"
"Yep, they still hang together, but Susan does her own thing on weekends. She's got a bastard of a boyfriend."
Before we ended the conversation, I asked if it would be cool to phone this number again. "Just remember I work late. Might be best if I call you, otherwise your folks are gonna receive an eye-popping bill."
So how was that? He wasn't mad at me for calling! And he ended the call with `Love ya'. Woohoo!