Brett lay on his back on my bed, eyes closed, as I returned from the shower. "You gonna shower?" I asked. I wore satin sleep shorts so as not to freak him.
"In the morning. I'm too stuffed to anything right now." He opened his eyes and gave my bod the once-over. "You're looking good, Kyle."
"Thanks," I shrugged, feigning modesty. "You gonna undress and get into bed?"
He rose to a sitting position, removed his shoes, then jacket and shirt. As always, the sight of his bare chest stirred my groin. He resembled a sleek animal; a panther. He removed his jeans to reveal a pair of black satin boxers, like gym shorts, with an open slit at the side of each leg. They hugged him beautifully; molded erotically to his prominent package and tight buns. Off came the socks, then he laid on his stomach on the spare mattress.
"You don't need to sleep there. You know that."
"Yep, but I'm fine here, Kyle. Really."
"Those boxers are way cool. They look good on you."
"A gift from Candy--she said the same thing. Then she bought two extra pair, same style in white and blue."
The sight of his killer bod was too much. I knelt over him and began to massage his powerful shoulders. "That feels great," he sighed as my fingers worked his warm, tanned skin, with its solid muscle beneath.
He fell asleep after a minute but I continued to massage for a while longer. In bed, I laid awake for ages thinking about his being in my room, and having him all to myself. There he was, just a few feet away, living and breathing, as real as I was. How awesome!
Eventually, he rolled onto his back; his normal sleeping position. I asked if he was awake. No answer. Then the inevitable happened. I began to explore his body with nervous fingers, terrified he might wake. He stirred a little, which caused me to freeze in fright. But only for a moment or two. Then I laid on my side and watched the gentle rise and fall of his stomach and the smoothness of his magnificently defined chest as he breathed. My thoughts dwelt on the night at his Gold Coast flat--so tender and loving, yet, a wild animal.
With great difficulty, I muffled my groans of pleasure during ejaculation. Then, as I cleaned myself with a tissue, his voice broke the silence of my room, causing me to freeze in fright again. "Hey, mate, you've given me a boner."
"You were awake the whole time?"
"You woke Mr. Snake and he woke me."
"So why didn't you answer when I asked if you were awake?"
"Would have spoiled the fun. Anyway, bro, I'm gonna get some sleep. See you in the morning."
Whoa! He was awake the whole time I fondled his bod? And he didn't complain? Come to think of it, why should he? He had the most awesome bod and was acutely aware of it.
My dad arrived (make that picked his way through the clothes that littered the floor) in my room at 11am with coffee. Brett, still groggy, sat up. "Looks like you two had a good night out," dad smiled, and placed the two mugs of steaming coffee on the bedside chest.
"Morning," Brett croaked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Hi--enjoy your evening?"
"Yeah, it rocked."
"Thanks for the illuminating narration."
After dad departed, I watched Brett's V-shaped back disappear into the ensuite. He was the type who aimed his dick directly at the bottom of the toilet bowl and made sufficient noise to shame Niagara. When finished, he took his coffee and planted his cute butt on the side of my bed.
"So what are your plans for today?" I asked.
"Not sure yet. I'd like to catch up with Susan ... said I'd see her later this afternoon."
"Is that clever?"
"What? Seeing Susan?"
"You'll be gone soon, leaving Susan holding the can ... or the baby."
"Shane will be cool about it. He knows I won't be here long, and he's not aware that Susan and I had sex last night."
"What about this Candy chick in Perth?"
"She's no chick, she's a real lady. You'll meet her one day, mate. She is absolutely and totally beautiful, and she's done a lot for me."
"Old lady," I chuckled before copping an elbow to the ribs.
"She may be almost 30 but she can teach both Susan and Melanie a few things. She's total class, and she doesn't treat me like a kid either. She treats me like a damn god. And, boy! Can she make love! She exhausts me."
"That's why you're looking so good--it's all the exercise."
"Pervert," he laughed.
"So tell me about Fingers."
"He's very cool--a bit twisted but cool. Best boss a bloke could wish for, I suppose."
"Except he's a pervert."
"Nah--he's okay. Sure, he loves to touch me but he knows if he makes a break for my boxers, he's dead. I told him already if he tries to put his hand anywhere near my dick or legs or chest I'll break his neck."
"So far it's cool. Every morning, my boss ... hear that, Kyle? MY BOSS wakes me with coffee. Then he sits on the bed and rubs my shoulders. He gets a kick out of it, and it feels good. Besides that, he's a totally cool bloke. Maybe a bit messed up because he gets depressed whenever I go off for the weekend with Candy, and that really affects his girlfriend's attitude as well. He loves to wrestle me and tickle me, which pissed me off at first, but then I thought `What the hell?' So long as he doesn't try anything with me. His girlfriend hates the way he is with me. She asked me to fuck off one time. I told her to get him to tell me that. Now she and I barely tolerate each other. She's got Fingers pretty well taped, though."
"Do you touch him?"
"Sometimes--like when he's working at his desk late at night. I'll make something for us to drink, and stand behind him while I treat him to little shoulder massage. He likes that. But that's it."
"What do you mean `that's it'? Bloody hell, for you that's loads!" I placed my hand on Brett's leg and let it cruise up and down between his knee and crotch. "I remember when doing this would have gotten me a week-long shiner."
"Yeah," he grinned as he placed his empty mug on the bedside chest. "But I understand you, and you're a pervert."
Quick as a flash, he leapt on top of me, tickling the hell outta my vulnerable spots. I writhed and giggled so much, I was breathless. Every muscle was tight from laughing, but his fingers continuously dug into my ribs despite my undecipherable protests. Eventually, I managed to position one leg so that I could send him flying backwards onto the spare mattress, where he rolled around guffawing like crazy.
After breakfast, Brett left to visit Susan. He was no sooner gone than the grommet paraded into my room like a landlord. I was folding and storing Brett's and my clothes, and tidying the place. "Was that Conan I saw leaving just now?"
"Cool. Is he back in town?"
"Just for the weekend. I thought you knew that."
"I haven't been here this week--been skating, surfing and hanging at the mall with my mates."
"Surf's been huge."
"Too huge for me, but I still surfed the middle and got nailed."
"So what's up?"
"Nothing much--I saw Conan and wanted to know if it was him. Looked like him but different--I needed to check to see if you had a new mate. Anyway, I got some stuff to do then I'm gonna hit the surf. What are you doing?"
"Just stuff around the house, so I'll be hanging here."
"Tell Conan I said g'day."
I thought it best not to tell Graham I'd rather wait for Brett's return than go surfing. No way would Graham appreciate the intensity of my relationship with Brett, or that every single moment I could spend with Brett while he was in town was far too precious to waste.
The morning dragged into the afternoon; each second attached to a lead weight. I regularly glanced at my wristwatch, hoping five minutes had elapsed. But, no, more like five seconds. How could this be? How could I be so deeply in love with another guy? The only response I could give that persistent question was a shake of my baffled head.
When Brett returned, I was relieved to learn that Shane was already at Susan's house when Brett arrived. The three rapped over a few beers and that was it; no sex. I tried to hide my relief but, hey, the more time I spent with my best mate, the better. Hahaha, hehehehe, hohohoho!
Brett asked if I felt like a walk to the beach. Sure! The weather was cold so we both donned thickly-padded jackets over Ts and jeans. As we walked, it occurred to me that we had dressed alike. That was typical of the effect my best mate had on me. Not only did I need to be with him but also a part of him; attached in every way possible.
"So what are your plans, Kyle?" he asked as we left our footprints behind us in the damp sand, hands warmly stuffed in our jacket pockets.
"College plans, study plans, future plans, plan plans."
"Shit, I don't know. Seriously, I don't know any more. I'll have enough money at the end of the year for the first year of college, but then what? Anyway, I'm not sure what I want anymore."
"So the famous Dirk Pitt is changing direction?"
"Something like that."
"What about crewing--crewing yachts. There's always demand for extra hands."
"Oh, yeah, what a great future," I shrugged with more than a hint of sarcasm.
"I'm serious. As it is now, you're heading nowhere in that surf shop. You think that's what you wanna do all your life?"
"It's just an idea. There are always yachties looking for crews. You love the sea. I don't know what you ultimately wanna do, Kyle, but this is a door. Quite a good one, too."
"Is that what you plan to do?"
"I think so," he smiled as if to encourage me. "It's the first time in my life that I might actually have a goal--to get a skipper license and sail all over the world. Some guys are forever delivering to owners from one place to the other."
"I'll think about it."
"Okay, but make sure you do think about it. I reckon crewing is something you'd love. You don't mind hard work, because it is. But it's fun as well, and you'll always be at sea." After a brief pause, he looked me directly in the eye. "Kyle?"
"There's a bit of money to be made, quite a bit."
We spoke for a long time as we ambled along the beach, with its chilly wind and pounding waves, each scampering up the sand, testing terra firma, then rejecting it in favor of returning to the bosom of Mother Ocean. Was there a message there for me?
The more Brett spoke about his new life the more hyped I became, mainly because of the enthusiasm he showed for the whole yachting lifestyle. He planned eventually to sail new yachts from the shipyards to their new owners around the world. "And I want to get into racing, Kyle. That would be just so damn exciting!"
The more I listened the more sense he made, primarily because I, unlike him, lacked direction and purpose. Being at one with the sea was definitely right up there as far as my own priorities were concerned.
The evening of June 30, 2001, the last day of my eighteenth year. Brett and I decided to go to a club up the coast. Cool with me! The more time I spent in his company the better! It was an opportunity for us to hang out on the balcony, sip a beer and talk. And, boy, did we talk! The street scene below provided visual amusement; car horns tooting, crowds loitering outside nearby clubs, minor argie bargies with a bit of pushing and shoving--one guy got planted over the hood of his car.
"Are you listening to me, Kyle?"
"You gotta promise me that you'll think about what I said. I'm worried about you."
"Because you're suddenly not focused, and that's not the Kyle I know. You're slowly succumbing to a rut, and what you're doing is not what you'll want to be doing later."
We hitched a ride home, arriving at 3am. Amazingly, we were not trashed. We'd had a totally cool evening, just talking and drinking moderately. Within a minute of settling into my room, Brett stripped to his boxers. I asked him if he wanted to shower.
"It'll wake your folks."
"Not a prob. You can if you want."
It's cool. Stop hassling."
I undressed to my boxers and tossed my clothes onto my desk. Then, from behind, I felt his arms around my torso, and his hands slide around to my stomach. My hands automatically found his. "Well," he said, breathing his warmth into my ear, "I just remembered my best friend is having a birthday today."