Schoolie
Life in The Village, through the eyes of Tom
Grant, the only teacher at the remote school.
This is an original work of pure fiction (just
an expression of a fantasy)
(re-written from my 2013 version)
The resemblance of the characters by action, name,
location or description to any real person is purely coincidental.
If it is illegal, or offensive, for you to
read stories involving interactions of a sexual nature between adults and
youths, then what are you doing here?
From Chapter 42
I
wake to the sound of the toilet being flushed. It's morning. What is missing is
the usual smell of bacon cooking. Marty's having a slow start after a long
night, apparently. However, I do discern the aroma of percolating coffee.
I
extricate myself from Will's entwining grasp to head out for an early morning
pee.
As
I step into the corridor, I catch sight of his naked body take the final few
steps before disappearing back into the bedroom without closing the door.
Nothing unusual, except... that... it isn't Marty!
What
I have just seen is the unmistakeable and ultra-cute, but bare, arse of
architect, Ashley Cook. Ash!!
Chapter
43 - Helicopter Rides
I'm
tempted to rush back into the bedroom and alert Will that we have an unexpected
guest in the house. However, my bodily needs overrule!
As
I stand, trying to empty my bladder as rapidly as possible (it has other ideas,
of course), a myriad of thoughts runs through my mind.
Did
Ash spend the night here? Of course he did!
Why
was he naked? Because Marty always sleeps naked.
Did
Ash and Marty have sex? Why else would they have slept naked in the same bed?
Who
made the first move on whom? Does it matter?
Is
Will going to be pissed off that Marty `got to him' first? Probably even moreso
than I am!
Think
quick, Tom!
I
decide not to flush the toilet (which makes a noise) and walk quietly to Marty's
open door. OK, so I actually sneak to Marty's door! I lean on, and peek around,
his door frame for a while and observe the two naked bodies snuggling together.
Ash has his back to the door. Marty's hand is massaging Ash's cute arse. "You guys
want breakfast in bed?" I ask, stepping forward and leaning on the door frame, at
which they both jump.
Marty
raises his head, looks a little `flushed' and replies, "Good morning, Sunshine.
It's OK thanks. We'll be up in a minute or so."
"You
mean you're not `up' already?" I smirk at him. I receive `the finger' for being
a smart arse.
"Take
your time," I tell them. "Someone's already put the coffee on. It will be ready
whenever you are." Then, sing-song fashion, I deliver the double entendre, "How
do you like it in the morning, Ash?"
Ash
rolls onto his back, displaying a magnificent flag pole. He looks at me and grins,
"With cream. You?"
"The
same!" I smirk at him. He takes in my nakedness and my growing arousal and I
see his flagpole twitch.
"Oh,"
I add, smirking. "One of Marty's house rules is `no clothes before breakfast'."
Marty's rule be damned! I really just want to ogle his naked body!
"Suits
me fine!" Ash replies.
"I'll
go and get Will up." I say, innocently.
"You
mean he's not up already?" Marty quips. They both laugh at his repetition of my
words to him.
I
hurry back to the bedroom. Will is face-down. Another cute arse! I shake him lightly.
His only response is a grunt. I slap his backside.
"What?"
he growls.
"You'll
never guess what I've just seen!" I put to him as his flickering eyes roll shut
again.
No
reply. I pause.
He
opens one eye. "What? A snake, I suppose? I've heard that one before."
"Not
quite that big," I tell him. He opens the other eye. "Ash is here, in bed with Marty,
naked!"
Now
he's fully awake!
"I
don't believe you," he shoots back. "You're only saying that to get me out of bed!"
"You're
right," I tell him, hanging my head in apparent shame and apologising as well. "Sorry."
There
is a moment of immobility, then the reverse psychology kicks in, with a vengeance.
He can't resist finding out for himself. He brushes me aside, his chunky slightly-diminished
morning glory flopping heavily from side to side, and almost stomps out of the room
and up the corridor towards Marty's end of the house.
I
step out and, smiling, watch as Will doesn't even pause at Marty's door. He just
turns and disappears inside.
The
ensuing silence is suddenly broken by squeals and screams for mercy.
Will's
voice!
How
could I not investigate? But I take my time. The squealing intensifies.
I
resume my previous door-frame-leaning position and chuckle at the sight of Will,
flattened on Marty's bed, face up. Marty is kneeling on his shoulders with Ash
sitting on Will's legs, pinning him so that he can't escape by wriggling.
Marty
and Ash take turns of either pinching Will's nipples or grasping his balls and cock.
I
see three very hard erections. Then there are four.
"Help!
Help!" Will yells, noticing me. "Don't just stand there!"
"OK,"
I shout, and walk to the bed.
Then,
while Marty and Ash hold him, I grasp and begin tickling Will's feet. The volume
of his screams doubles.
"Oh,
did you mean for me to help YOU?" I casually chuckle to Will. "You weren't very
specific!"
"Bastard!"
Will shouts.
"What
do you suggest that I do?" I further taunt him.
"Aaaeee!"
he wails.
"Did
you say `coffee'?" I ask calmly. Marty and Ash are in stitches, laughing.
"Get
them off me!" Will screams.
I
think that his squawking is about to turn to crying. "OK, I hear you, bro!" I tell
him and I grasp Ash around his body from behind, pull him off Will's legs and off
the bed and I hold him securely against my body, savouring my stiffness snuggled
against his extreme cuteness.
His
momentary resistance subsides and he leans back onto me.
"I
think that I'm going to like it here!!" he rasps.
"Oi!"
Marty calls, looking at us, just as my right hand reaches around Ash for a first
feel of his rod.
"Hey!"
Will also protests. "What are you doing?"
"Well,
you wanted me to get him off you," I reply jocularly.
"Yeah,
well, now you can get him off YOU!" Will says with some seriousness, perhaps more
from envy than anger.
Marty
leans down and whispers into Will's ear. He nods. Then without another word, Marty
and Will both bounce off the bed and grab me. They muscle me to where, and how,
Will had been held.
I'm
happy to play along until Marty pinches my nipples and Will squeezes my balls -
none too gently either!
"Enough!
Let me go!" I tell them. Then "Aaargh!"
"How
do you like it, eh?" Will growls.
I
see Ash move to my feet, smirking.
"That's
not where he's ticklish!" Will tells him, indicating that he should attack my ribs
and under-arms.
"No!
Don't!" I squeal. Useless protest! I squirm and giggle and buck and thrash, all
to no avail, with Marty holding me at one end and Will at the other. I feel a hand
on my stiff, pre-cum exuding rod and a slow, stimulating rhythm ensues. I can tell
that it's not Will!
I
take a deep breath and try to relax. The tickling stops. The ball-squeezing stops.
The nipple pinching stops. The deep-down feeling starts.
I
reach out and take hold of Ash and match his strokes on me one-for-one.
"Ooh!
That feels so good," I gasp. Then I add, "I hope you're watching and taking notes,
Will!"
There
is suddenly a general more relaxed mood, except for in my groin. I see Marty jerking
his tool directly above my face. Will is going for it too. Ash continues to caress
me and throws his head back, enjoying my reciprocal stimulation of him.
"Look
out!" I warn them, and streams of cum burst from my cock. The first must have hit
Marty because I feel the second on my chin. Then more. Ash's hand slows to a milking
stroke.
Will
groans and I feel his heat join my own wetness. Marty follows soon after. I feel
Ash's long, slim pole stiffen then jerk... three, four, five...
"I
didn't think you had that much left!" Marty tells him. "What a waste of good protein!"
Much laughter.
"Hey,
you're a mess," Will says to me. "You should be more careful where you play, sonny!
You'd better have a shower before breakfast."
"I
am definitely going to like it here!" Ash tells us, grinning broadly.
I
feel cum dribbling down my sides. I glance at the pools of it on my chest and stomach.
Marty produces a towel (which already feels wet) to prevent too much of it soiling
his bedclothes.
"You
did say that you liked it with cream, didn't you?" Ash asks.
"The
coffee!" I protest. "Cream in my coffee!"
"Really?"
Ash asks.
"As
if!" Marty adds, getting off my aching shoulders.
"Yeah.
I thought so," Ash comments, then adds, "Just don't tell your father about this.
OK?"
I
hold my breath and stare at him. So does Will. There is silence. Even as Will and
I turn our gaze to each other, in the same breath Ash continues, "Bill knows that
I'm gay, but I don't want him to hear that I've mucked around with his two so..."
Then, reading the shock on our faces he stops mid-word.
We
spin our heads from him towards Marty to gauge his reaction.
"What
was that?" Marty inquires from the doorway, turning around and taking two steps
back towards Ash. "What did you just say?"
Ash
makes a hopelessly bumbling mess of correcting his indiscretion. "I meant, don't
tell your father, Tom, and please none of you say anything to Bill, either."
"That's
not what came out of your mouth," Marty corrects him. "You said to Tom, `don't tell
your father because Bill doesn't need to know that you've mucked around with his
two sons'."
"No
I didn't!" Ash protests.
"Well,
that's what I heard," Marty puts to him, "even though you didn't quite finish the
last bit."
Ash
turns bright crimson. "OMG, guys," he splutters to us. "I'm so sorry! I thought
that Marty knew. You hadn't warned me! Bill first introduced you guys to me as his
sons, so I thought that it was general knowledge." His eyes plead with Will and
me to help him.
"Marty,
what was the first house rule that you ever told me? Do you remember?" I put to
him.
"Of
course," he replies. "What happens in the house..."
"...stays
in the house!" Will joins in as Marty finishes the sentence.
"So,
by your own rule, you are sworn to secrecy about what you have just heard. Right?"
"You've
got me. Mum's the word," he replies.
"Actually,
your mum's NOT to get the word," I say, smiling.
"Hey!
Mum's the reason that I invented the rule!" he laughs back.
There
is a pause while Marty processes `stuff' in his mind.
"So,
you two actually are brothers?" he asks us. We both nod.
"Well
that explains why you look alike. And, which means that Bill Grant, helicopter pilot
and financial advisor is the `Big Willie' that Lilly was always on about?" Again,
we nod.
"He's
a famous photographer too, you know!" Will adds.
Marty
nods slowly, obviously shocked at the information that he now possesses. His countenance
becomes like that of a person who has just been read the final chapter of a gripping
Dan Brown thriller.
Then
he smiles the broadest grin that I have ever seen on his face.
"What?"
I ask.
"Could
you possibly understand how it feels to know something that my mother doesn't? Something
that everyone around here has wanted to know for seventeen years? And that my sexy
little cousin is actually the brother of the sexy young Schoolie and..."
Will
cuts him off. "Hey, watch who you're calling `little'! The way that I see it, Cuz,
is that even though yours is big, you've still got the shortest one in the room!"
Everyone looks at everyone else's tool and we all laugh. Then Will repeats, "Tom,
you need a shower, bro!"
I
head for the bathroom. Will and Marty follow me right in. Ash stops at the door.
"You don't mind everyone being in here while you're showering?" he asks me.
"Not
at all," I tell him. "Another one of Marty's house rules - open doors; that is with
one smelly exception!"
"OK.
You don't have to explain that one!" Ash says.
"We've
seen each other naked so often that it doesn't matter anymore, especially in the
shower," Will adds.
I
begin to wash, all over. Ash moves a step closer and takes a keen interest, looking
me over from top to toe, but mainly in the middle. "Want to join me?" I ask.
"No,
he doesn't!" Will snaps. "But I will!"
I
smile. Do I sense jealousy? He steps in and we wash each other, all over.
We
clamber out and Marty says, "My turn!" Ash joins him and they wash each other.
All over!
"I
think that we are all going to enjoy having you around," I say to Ash. Then, to
Marty, I ask, "What's for breakfast, chef?"
"Shit!"
he replies, then adds quickly lest we think that he was giving us the menu, "I'd
better turn off the coffee, because breakfast is at Mum's. What's the time? Hurry
up, all of you." He gets out, grabs a towel and heads out and back up the corridor
via the kitchen. "Fifteen minutes!" he calls.
Will
and I dress, ready for school, then head to the kitchen for a quick stimulant of
aromatic percolated caffeine which either Marty or Ash must have put on earlier.
Now turned off, but still hot.
Ash's
magnificent nakedness emerges from the bathroom. He looks at us. "What happened
to no clothes before breakfast?" he asks.
"It
only applies if we're having breakfast here," Marty enlightens him. "Not in front
of my mother and sister."
Much
laughter. Ash heads for the bedroom, and his clothes.
"OK.
The SUV. Hop in!" Marty trumpets. Ash follows him.
"Will
and I will take my car," I tell him," so that we can go straight from your Mum's
to school." Marty nods.
Will
puts his hand out for the keys. I refuse to hand them over. "Maybe after breakfast,"
I tell him. Then I add, "But only if you're good!"
"Hey,
you said that I'm always good," Will protests.
"In
bed, yes, you insatiable sex machine!" I smile. "But, pinning me down and scrunching
my balls just tarnished your `perfect' reputation."
"You
can always get even, tonight," Will chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows above his alluring
teenage eyes.
"Oh,
don't you worry about that! I fully intend to!" I tell him. My smirk conveys to
him that I'm not angry or upset with him, and I know that he will enjoy my `getting
even' as much as I will.
I
can smell breakfast even before I walk through the door at Acacia's. Marty and Ash
are already seated.
And,
Acacia, in welcoming Will and me, has a bright and cheery glow about her this morning
which I have not seen previously.
What
I didn't expect to see was Uncle Bill here too!
"How
did you get down here this morning?" I ask him.
"I
didn't have to," he responds. "I was invited to stay the night... in the guest cottage.
It was cosy but a bit cool."
Marty
quickly jumps in. "Yes, he and Mum were still chattering like parrots when I left
them last night TO TAKE ASH BACK TO THE PUB." He stares at me and Will intently,
as if to infuse his lie into our heads. I look at Will and smile then nod to Marty.
Hmm, he and Ash are both wanting their little tryst to remain secured by the House
Rule!
"So
that's why you were UP early was it?" I put to Marty. "To go and collect Ash from
the pub?"
"I'm
a bit of an early riser myself," Ash contributes. He doesn't have to emphasise the
words. I get it!
"I
gathered that must be the case," I reply.
"That
could be quite a bonus while you're here," Will adds.
Many
people are smiling. The only one in the room who appears not to be in good humour
this morning is Anna. I have hopes for her that a handsome, young stonemason-type
might alleviate her obvious loneliness in the not-too-distant future. And, Acacia
may yet get to plan a for-real wedding!
My
uncertainty in all of this is whatever Uncle Bill might have told everyone after
Will and I left them last night. I decide to totally downplay any discussions about
relations, etc. and stick to `business'.
"So,
what's on the agenda today?" I ask, the question obviously directed to Uncle Bill.
"Well,
there is the matter of the helicopter rides," he reminds me. "Apart from that I
think that Ash got everything that he was looking for yesterday."
Ash,
Marty, Will and I all try to disguise our smiles to each other.
"But
I'll be back when I need more," Ash says matter-of-factly. "And I'd like to talk
Marty, Jan and the Smiths through the revised plans before I submit them to the
council for final approval. With Helen O'Sullivan `on side', there should not be
much of a delay. I'd like to come back in a week or so. I'll probably bring the
Land Rover this time and stay a couple of days. We can start `marking out' for the
construction teams and I'll also bring a check list of all the renovations to be
done at the pub. I'll walk around with the Smiths to ensure that I haven't overlooked
anything."
"He's
meticulous," Uncle Bill says. "It's very unlikely that he will have forgotten anything."
Ash
adds, "My greatest concern is workers. We could fly some out from the coast, but
we'd prefer to give the opportunity for work to as many locals as possible first.
Do you know of anyone?" he puts to Marty, but also looks to Acacia for any input.
The
response comes, "I'm sure that there'd be at least a dozen or so around here or
in Big Town who would be keen. Some have trade skills as well, but are living off
government welfare at the moment. Work is scarce because there is such a bad drought.
Nobody wants to incur debts which they can't repay. It's not fair on the shopkeepers
if they have to extend credit to everyone and yet pay for their own supplies."
"Why
don't you ask around, and make Ash a list of people to chase up," Uncle Bill says
to Marty. "Then you two can get together when he comes back."
I
look at Will and wink. He is smirking. So is Ash.
Uncle
Bill continues, "When we're done here, I'll fly out to Whispering Gums and pick
up Helen. She was planning to go up there with Jan this morning to look around and
talk with the current owners before the place is put onto the market for sale. It
shouldn't be too hard to find. Jan told me to follow the road north for about 150km.
The main homestead should be easy enough to spot from the air. There are no other
buildings within coo-ee of the place, he said."
Marty
hastily adds, "That's probably why I didn't see Helen around this morning at the
pub WHEN I PICKED UP Ash. She was either still sleeping or already gone!" He smirks
at us. I smile acknowledgement then look at Will and Ash. We all show our complicity
in his fabrication of a truth by a nod and a wink.
"Thank
you, Anna," I say to her. "You've done a magnificent job with breakfast, as usual."
She blushes. Then I add, "It's just as well that I live with Marty and not over
here." Everyone looks at me. "With food this good every day, I would definitely
be packing on a lot of weight!"
"It's
always a pleasure to cook for people who appreciate it, Tom," she replies. Her glare
at Marty elicits delayed compliments from everyone else, even Will!
"I'll
drop Bill and Ash up to The Village shortly," Marty says.
It
almost sounds like being dismissed! "OK, Will. Come on. We can take a hint. Besides,
it's getting late."
Acacia
escorts Will and me to my car. "Thank you, Tom, dear," she says, clasping both of
my hands in hers. I'm a little puzzled. It must show on my face. She adds, "You
have an amazing uncle."
Now
I'm even more puzzled. What does she know? What has he said? Then, a dreadful thought
emerges... What has he done? Why is she glowing? I entomb that idea deep... where it
belongs!
I
hand Will the keys. He loves having an audience when he drives. Acacia waves us
goodbye.
We
arrive at the school to a reception party of cherubs and parents. I wish everyone
a `good morning', ask Will to unlock the building and suggest to the children that
they put their bags inside.
I
collect the permission notes. Every single one has taken up the adventure on offer,
the majority having at least one of their parents with them, some whom I had not
previously met. Our discussions are very cordial and some even offer me their hospitality
on a weekend, even if only for a day, or perhaps just lunch or dinner. Country folk,
apart from being welcoming, always seem to enjoy the company of a visitor with news
`from the outside world'. It's a big thing for them, and it's not to curry favour
at all.
Their
congeniality is endearing, after the guile and scams that I had encountered in the
city, growing up.
Faced
with the prospect of living here with Will, and to quote Ash's words, `I think I'm
going to like it here', in the back of my mind, I hear my brain replay the same
words in a song from `Annie', the musical and movie.
Many
parents share with me their excitement (and that of their children) at flying for
the very first time and for the opportunity to see The Village, and perhaps even
their own houses, from the air. Reg is among them. Di has declined.
Uncle
Bill arrives with Marty, having dropped off Ash at the pub to "get his things together".
He has a room of his own even though he didn't sleep in it.
I
introduce Uncle Bill to all of the parents as the pilot, Mr Grant, and make a joke
of him having the same name as me - a fact that I'm sure would have been related
by their children last night over dinner.
Reg
seems to look at him more intently than others do.
Marty
offers to ferry groups of three at a time to the helicopter and back (a couple of
hundred metres) to ensure that nobody is affected by stirred-up or settling dust.
Fortunately, I can feel a light easterly zephyr this morning that will assist the
fine redness away from us to the west, helping it to clear more quickly from around
the helicopter.
Marty
takes Uncle Bill to prepare the chopper.
I
spread the word that the children should bring their chairs outside and I ask the
`seniors' to retrieve chairs from the craft room for the parents. Observing the
goings and returnings of the helicopter will form a great basis for story telling
- orally for the juniors and in writing for the seniors. Those who can manage it
will be encouraged to include their feelings while engaged in both watching and
riding.
There
is a buzz of excitement in anticipation.
David,
his mum and little brother Eric go first. I figure that their positive attitudes
will be infectious and help to calm any nerves. Not just the children's!
It
works. You couldn't put a stopper in David's mouth if you tried, on his return.
His mother's favourite phrase becomes, `OMG. That was fantastic!' Multiple repetitions!
We
all watch as the helicopter rises, tilts forward and follows the line of river gums
to the south for a few minutes; low going out and high coming back, before circling
the school and settling back again over its starting point. Everybody on the ground
jumps and waves to those in the air on the helicopter's return journey.
After
their own rides, no parents leave. They are soaking up the euphoria of the shared
experience with everyone else.
Reg,
Jane and Jake's turn comes. I ask Marty to have Uncle Bill fly them out over Thunungara
and back.
When
everyone (almost) has had a turn, David pipes up, "What about you, Mr Grant? Aren't
you going to have a ride too? And William?
I
reply, "That would be nice, David, but I can't exactly leave you all here alone,
can I?"
He
responds, "We're not alone, Mr Grant. My mum's here!"
"Go
on!" all of the parents encourage. "It's not as though we don't know how to look
after children!" Everybody agrees, and there is much giggling.
"OK,
then," I reply. "Thank you. Come on, William!"
Marty
takes us to where Uncle Bill is standing. "I hope you don't mind," I tell him. "It'll
be my first time, too."
"Oh
dear," Will comments. "I don't have a signed permission note."
"Get
in, you cheeky mischief-maker," Uncle Bill admonishes his #2 son.
We
strap in, according to Uncle Bill's instructions and he indicates a set of headphones
with microphone for each of us, so that we can all communicate. I look at him.
"This
thing's not soundproof, you know!" he tells both Will and me.
Instead
of doing what he did with all of the others, he takes the helicopter straight up.
High. Very high. It affords us an amazing view of the landscape, way out beyond
the normal horizons, dominated totally by the snaking river, clearly identified
by its twin banks of river gums that conceal the actual water, except where there
are rare gaps.
The
view almost becomes two-dimensional, like a satellite photograph.
The
road is clearly visible in all directions where it runs - south to Marty's place
and beyond, which would be Big Town, east to Thunungara and north towards Whispering
Gums. Will points out the various places that he recognises.
Way
beyond the river, to the west, is a vast seemingly-endless plain. "What is that
out there?" Will asks, pointing westward. "I didn't know that there were any buildings
out there. There is no road out that way, and I've never heard anybody mention that
there was a house out there, ever. I know that all of the other school kids live
either up the road towards Whispering Gums or down past Marty's place."
"Yes,
I noticed it earlier," Uncle Bill comments. "Want to have a closer look?"
"Hell,
Yeah!" Will responds. Uncle Bill turns the chopper west and its nose dips as it
heads out there. He descends to a level where an old homestead is identifiable.
Then he heads back. "It looked in really good condition for something that nobody
seems to live in," Will comments. "There was no sign of life, no animals and no
tracks - of any kind. It's a wonder that I've never heard anything about it."
Uncle
Bill turns the helicopter around.
Parents
and cherubs alike are so grateful for the helicopter opportunity that they applaud
Uncle Bill as he steps from Marty's SUV with Will and me.
Parents
say their goodbyes to the children and depart, some having first assisted in replacing
the chairs in the craft room.
I
ask Jane to take charge of the cherubs and their chairs while Will and I say farewell
to Uncle Bill. Marty drives us all to the pub where we find Ash waiting.
There
are hugs all round, and positive expressions of soon-to-be-renewed acquaintances.
Marty
announces, "Is there room in the helicopter for another passenger? I would like
to take a look from up there too, if possible." He pauses. "In fact, if you take
me out to Whispering Gums when you go to pick up Helen, I may be able to give Jan
a hand with a few things, then travel back with him later in the day.
"No
problem!" Uncle Bill says, chirpily. Ash seems happy to have this extra travelling
companion as well.
"See
you soon," I say to Uncle Bill and Ash.
"See
you for dinner," I tell Marty. "Will and I will have it ready when you get back
later, probably just after 5 o'clock, if Jan sticks to his normal schedule." I add,
"And don't worry, we won't poison you. You're too valuable!" He looks at me and
smiles. Ash concurs.
Uncle
Bill says, "I'll just duck inside and fix up the hotel bill then walk across to
the helicopter in a couple of minutes. Marty and Ash slide into the SUV for the
short ride to the helicopter, while Will and I start walking casually back to the
school, discussing the thrill of flying.
As
we enter the gate, I hear the engine start and the rotors start to whir. We stand
on the verandah and watch as it lifts off and heads south down along the river,
towards Marty's place. Then we see it rise higher and banks east in the direction
of Thunungara. A few minutes later we catch sight of the speck in the sky, heading
north.
I
talk with all of the cherubs together, young and old. We discuss mainly what they
saw and how they felt in the helicopter. One comments on the smell of the engine.
Most also mention the noise and how `cool' it was to have headphones to talk to
the pilot and their parents.
Uncle
Bill had asked each of them where they lived then he flew them over their own home.
David
pipes up, "My mum said that she was so excited that she nearly peed herself." Everyone
laughs and we move on.
They
all work well for the remainder of the day but the only discernible topic of discussion
was `the helicopter rides'. And all of the various helicopter drawings will be
pinned up in the Craft Room. I reckon it will be told for many years to come, to
all who can bear to listen to it `yet again'.
Karl
and Kurt ask whether Will is allowed to go to their place for a while after school.
"Yes, he may," I tell them, and I call Will over. "If you go with Karl and Kurt,
I'll go down to the pub to thank Julie Smith for everything." To all of them I ask,
"Did you guys enjoy dinner last night?"
The
trio look at each other, nod, then respond in unison, "Hell, Yeah!" and laugh.
Karl
adds, "Dad really liked it too. He stayed with us for a while and then said that
he was going back to talk some more about the work. They must have talked for a
really long time, because he didn't come home until nearly morning."
`That's
weird,' I think to myself, because Marty dropped Acacia, Anna and Uncle Bill off
and came home with Ash well before midnight. There would have been nobody left for
Jan to talk with. Did I miss somebody? Karl must be mistaken!
At the end of the day there is renewed excitement as cherubs
and parents re-connect.
Will
puts his things into my car and dashes off along the short-cut with Karl, leaving
Kurt to the mercy of my swatting right hand, to help him out of the door. His
thankful eyes smile at me then he capers off after the other two.
There
are many cars, utes and small trucks outside the pub. I couldn't say they were `parked'
because that would imply some semblance of order. `Scattered' comes close to describing
the numerous vehicles. I pull up around the corner and walk back towards the noise
emanating from the corner-facing doors.
I
pause at the door, catch sight of Julie Smith behind the bar and walk straight towards
her. I am aware of attracting looks by patrons and I nod greetings to them, even
though I don't know them.
The
place is nearly full. Mostly just chatter, but I can also hear, from somewhere,
a drunken duet – which I can discern from the slurred words, pronounced not as the
composer would have intended.
Men,
giving drink orders to Julie Smith have to raise their voices to be heard clearly.
I wait until she is free and then ask for "one of my usuals." She knows what I mean.
The last time that I mentioned `lime juice', I thought that some of the beer-swilling
country hulks might suffer apoplexy.
Julie
introduces me to a group of local lads, about Marty's age. Most are clad in work
jeans, plaid shirts with sleeves rolled up as far as their bulging arm muscles permit.
Oh, and boots. They all have well-worn boots! I stand with them and `socialise'.
They ask about life in the big city and I share with them many things including
my love of the beach and surfing. I also confess to some things that I've learned
about `country life' since I've been here, much to their amusement.
"You're
OK, Schoolie," one of them chuckles. He raises his glass. "To the Schoolie," he
proposes a toast and the group all clink glasses.
I
think that I've just broken into the local `social set'. There is a bonding, and
they begin to `open up' about themselves
We
are just `getting into it' when I ask, "What's out west of here, across the river?"
It's a simple enough question, but they all just stop drinking and look at each
other.
An
old-timer, close to us and hearing my question, interjects. "Stay clear of that
land over there, young fella! There ain't nothing good out there! We don't talk
about it and nobody goes out there. It's a bad place!"
Another
joins in, "You ain't heard of the curse, have ya?"
"Curse?
What curse?" I ask.
"He'd
better know about it, if he's gonna be staying hereabouts!" one says. "You tell
him, Davo. You're good with words," he declares, nodding to a tall, apparently sober,
older guy, who acknowledges and takes up the challenge of educating the Schoolie.
He
begins...
"Well,
son, back in 1895 it was, an American cattleman, against all advice from the locals,
built a large homestead about 20km west of the river on a site that was considered
sacred to a small group of indigenous individuals known as the Jintabudjaree People.
The site was said to be a healing place where the Great Rainbow Serpent emerged
to visit the Jintabudjaree in poor seasons and provided them with food and
water to sustain their `mob' as they referred to themselves.
"When
the homestead was built, visits from the Rainbow Serpent were said to have stopped.
In a long drought, the cattleman noticed that his calves began to regularly disappear,
so he accused the aboriginals of stealing them. They said that the Rainbow Serpent
was providing them with food. There was a lot of bitterness which came to a head
one day when he `snapped' and went on a shooting spree, killing all of the Jintabudjaree
people that he could find.
"However,
it is told that one elder of the mob was protected by the Rainbow Serpent and survived
the massacre. It is said that he placed a curse on the cattleman's homestead before
clubbing the man to death with a nulla-nulla and `feeding his body' down a hole
as a sacrifice to the Rainbow Serpent.
"The
curse that is said to have been pronounced was that the murderer's homestead would
be hidden from view by the Rainbow Serpent, leaving no trace of it upon the sacred
land. And it became invisible.
"However,
from time to time the Rainbow Serpent would cause it to reappear on the land to
extract retribution for the murder of the Jintabudjaree people, claiming a `life
for a life'. The curse would only cease when the exact number of lives as were killed
by the cattleman, were forfeited.
"When
the homestead reappears, and then when anybody mentions the word `Jintabudjaree'
in public, the first person to have seen the homestead will die, or one of his relatives
or close friends. Often, it's the `discoverer' himself, and always within 24 hours
of the word being spoken.
"The
only sign that the curse has finally been lifted will be that the homestead will
no longer be rendered invisible by the Rainbow Serpent, following the `last death'.
But, not knowing how many aboriginals were killed, nobody knows exactly how many
people will need to die before curse is lifted and the homestead will remain.
"Over
the years, a total of 12 people died or just disappeared after the re-appearance
of the homestead and the pronouncement of the `J' word.
"Just
about everyone here knows of the curse, and nobody dares say that aboriginal word
if anyone claims to have seen the homestead. That's why nobody ever built any other
house west of the river. There's nothing out there for hundreds of miles, as we
can figure it.
"It
appears that old man O'Sullivan and Jack O'Brien were also victims of the curse,
10 years apart.
"However,
about 2 years ago, the homestead was spotted by the publican's nephew who went out
there, motor cycling with some of his friends, even though they'd been warned not
to ride in that direction.
"He
told people he'd seen it and everyone walked around placing a finger to their lips
as they met people, as a warning to be careful what they said. However, a day later,
everyone was in the bar when an old aboriginal man walked into the public bar and
shouted `Jintabudjaree' and then turned around and walked out again. Nobody could
locate him even though they looked.
"The
next day the publican was taken seriously ill and died. The doctors said that it
was advanced liver cancer, but all of the locals have a very different opinion.
"That
is why nobody goes out there any more, ever, in case the homestead has re-appeared
and is sitting, just waiting to be seen and to claim its next victim!"
"Why
are you even telling me this," I ask, "if merely saying the word in public,
as you've been doing, can cause somebody's death?"
"It's
OK, son," the old guy tells me, "so long as the homestead has not returned,
or if nobody has seen it, if it has."
"How
often does it appear?" I inquire, the skin on my neck and covering my head
starting to contract and tingle in abject fear.
"Anytime,"
comes the reply, "but always when we're having a severe drought. The longest
gap was 12 years; the shortest 5 months."
"Every
time it has re-appeared in the last 120 years and somebody has been heard to say
the `J' word, then one person has died. Every single time!"
I
feel myself go faint and I have to reach for the nearest wall for support.
"Are
you all right, mate?" one of the young guys asks. "What's wrong? You look
as though you've seen a ghost!"
"Worse!"
I splutter. "This morning when I was up in the helicopter, I saw it... a large
homestead, very clearly. It's out there, now!" I don't comment that everyone's
been saying the `J' word since then. I don't have to.
A
deathly hush sweeps across and through the pub, smothering all conversation. Even
the off-key singing and clinking of glasses stop.
In
the moments of ensuing silence, I immediately think of my mother, battling both
cancer and the chemotherapy. My eyes fill with tears.
The
words ring in my ears, `...one of his relatives or close friends...' and my mind
jumps to include young Andy, still clinging to life in a Gold Coast hospital.
I
think of Will. Please, God. Not him! Who? Me? One of my cherubs? Kurt? Uncle Bill?
Then,
my ever-slow brain catches up with reality. Will saw it before I did and pointed
it out to all of us! That doesn't change the Rainbow Serpent's target too much,
except that now it includes all members of the O'Brien clan and reduces the odds
of it being my mother.
Yet
again, I recall Uncle Bill's words to Will and me, `Yes, I noticed it earlier.'
That directly places at risk him, me, Will, dad (his brother) and Mum, even Sis,
or any one of his myriad of friends. It diminishes the risk of those other `friends'
whom I know and love. That is very little consolation!
I
alternately feel hot flushes and cold chills. I must look a trembling mess. Somebody
pushes a chair under me.
Julie
Smith hands me a bunch of serviettes, intended for me to wipe my now-wet face. She
is the first to speak, "Tom, dear, can I get you something to drink?"
I
manage, "Coffee, please. Strong."
While
I attempt to regain my composure by wiping my face, blowing my nose and taking deep,
deliberate breaths, I run lists of potential victims of the curse through my mind.
Whichever way I work it, it seems that Uncle Bill, Will and I are prime targets.
Unless it's all just a silly superstition fuelled by bizarre coincidences! But Helen's
grandfather, Marty's dad and Julie Smith's father all seem to be three very real
casualties of the `curse'. I feel sick.
The
pub's silence is gradually, whisper by whisper, replaced by subdued discussions.
Julie
Smith declines my offer to pay for the coffee. I feel very alone and vulnerable.
I need Will!
As
I rise to leave, some patrons eye me with apparent sympathy. Are they looking at
a dead man walking? Others avert their gaze out of obvious embarrassment at not
knowing what to say.
"We're
here if you need us, Tom," Julie Smith encourages, rubbing my shoulders.
I
thank her and walk out into the late afternoon air. It suddenly seems to have a
particular chill about it.
He stops suddenly only a couple of metres in front of me and
looks at my face. His expression changes and he asks, "Are you OK, Mr Grant?"
He withdraws his hand which uncovers an obvious erection.
I look from his handsome young boy-bulge to his concerned face.
"Thank you, Kurt," I reply. "Yes, I'm fine." I know that he
can tell that I'm lying. "Would you please tell William that I'm here?"
I ask. I open the car door, get out and lean my back against the car.
"Sure, Mr Grant," he says in a subdued voice and he
walks slowly back up the steps and onto the verandah. He turns his head, glances
at me and then goes inside. Only a moment later he reappears, looks back over his
shoulder, inside, smiles and then calls to me, "William said that he won't
be long."
He walks down to where I've stopped and stands right in front
of me. "Are you sure you're OK, Mr Grant?" he asks again. "You
look really sad." Then, without hesitation, he slides his arms around me, above
waist-high, and rests his head high on my chest. "It'll be all right, Mr
Grant."
Such compassion from one so young causes another wave of
emotion in me and I feel my eyes mist over.
I put one arm around his shoulders and cradle his head with my
other hand, and hug him to me. "Thank you, Kurt," I say and I feel his
arms tighten around me.
"William is just helping Karl with something... you know!"
he says to me. I smile. I can guess what he's helping Karl to achieve!
"Did he help you too, Kurt?" I ask through a half smile
that succeeds in chasing away my immediate bleakness.
"No, not yet, Mr Grant. I was just watching them. It was
going to be my turn second today for some reason. I let Karl go first today as William
suggested." It was fun watching.
I pause, swallow hard and apprehensively ask, "Would you
like me to help you today, Kurt, instead of William?"
Quick as a glint of reflected sunlight from the weir he answers,
"Oh, yes, Mr Grant! Would you? Please? Thank you." I feel his pulsing
stiffness against my thigh.
"Then go and tell Will and Karl that they don't need to
hurry," I encourage him, "then meet me around that side of your house,"
indicating the one facing the river.
He doesn't need a second invitation.
`Why the hell not?' I argue against my conscience. I may not
be alive tomorrow!
I don't have to wait long.
Kurt chirps, "Karl says `thank you' and Will says, `it's
about bloody time!' so maybe they both think that you're gonna do something with
me," he laughs. I laugh with him.
There is a slightly awkward moment of working out how best to
position ourselves for this. So, I lean my back against the house and urge him closer
into a hug. He stands almost sideways between my legs and presses his body to mine
with his re-energised stiffness against my inner thigh. He starts thrusting movements
and I cradle his firm young butt with one hand and encourage his hip movements.
I think of Andy at the beach.
Kurt pauses, as if contemplating the rigidity that he can feel
pushing against the side of his body. He reaches for the front of my pants, has
a quick, confirming feel of my `gear' and asks, "Are you happy now, Mr Grant?"
"Yes, I am, Kurt. Thank you!" I reply.
I gently rotate his body so that his firm young backside is against
my front. I rub his chest and stomach and, leaning forward so that my chin is resting
on his shoulder, I allow my hands to roam lower and lower, finally encountering
the hard peg in his shorts, which I fondle, grasping and rubbing. His body reacts
by gyrating and thrusting against my hand.
He leans heavily back against me as if checking again the source
of what he can feel poking into his back. He inserts his thumbs in the elastic waistband
of his shorts and pushes them down. I cup his exposed cock and balls and just hold
him firmly and gently. I rub my thumb around his crop of adolescent hairs and he
moans in pleasure.
He leans forward momentarily to enable his hands to slide behind
him, with his palms against my now-very-hard manhood. He wiggles until both hands
have a partial grasp, then he leans his whole weight backwards, pressing his hands
firmly onto me. I know that he can feel me twitch because his cock responds similarly.
I concentrate and intentionally make mine jump and I relish the response of him
flinching in my hand. Not just twice!
I make a tunnel with my fist and let it slide down his shaft,
up and down again. His body responds and his hips thrust to meet every downstroke
of my hand. I allow saliva to build up in my mouth, lubricate my hand with it and
then let him slide into it. "Oooh!" he moans. "I like that!" I continue
to stroke him. He continues to thrust into me and he purrs with each push.
His body tenses and then his thrusting becomes frenzied.
"Go slower!" I whisper.
"Can't!" he growls and pumps away, now grunting. All
of a sudden, he freezes and his cock starts jerking by itself, making my hand even
wetter and slipperier. His moans of pleasure, his twitching cock and his firm grip
on my stimulated rod cause me to tingle with excitement. Without any warning, I
empty my load in my pants.
"He asks, "Mr Grant, did you just...?" and he
stops.
I laugh, "Yes, I did! Thanks to you."
"Wow," he says, "you were nearly as quick as me."
"I think you'd enjoy it more if you slowed down," I
tell him.
"It's all good, Mr Grant," he replies.
Another awkward moment. He's wet and sticky and so is my hand.
I don't have a handkerchief or tissues, and there is no grass on which I can wipe
my hand. I risk grossing him out by raising my hand to my mouth and licking it.
Not bitter at all!
"What are you doing?" he asks, surprised, if not shocked.
"It's not that bad, really," I tell him.
I move my hand to his mouth. He looks at me and then, almost
obediently, takes a tentative swipe with his tongue. He wrinkles his nose but says,
"It's OK, I suppose," and he licks me again. "It tastes sort of...
weird."
Hey, if I'm not going to be alive tomorrow, then what I'm about
to suggest to him won't matter! "I tell you what, Kurt. If you clean up my
hand, I'll clean you up down below the same way."
"What? You're gonna lick the stuff off my cock?" he
asks in a tone that suggests Will has never done that to him.
"Trust me," I say.
He grasps my hand and licks it clean. "Is that OK, Mr Grant?"
he asks. I can't tell whether he's seeking my approval for doing it or whether it's
clean enough.
"Perfect," I compliment him. He smiles. "Now stand
still." I kneel and take his softening cock into my mouth and begin to give
it a good vacuum cleaning. He squirms.
"Oh, shit!" he squeaks, then apologises for his language.
"Did I hurt you, Kurt?" I ask.
"Oh, no, Mr Grant. It just felt really good."
"Then keep still!" I tell him again. My tongue and
lips seek out any trace of stickiness and remove it from his hairs and balls. By
the time I'm finished, he is fully erect, again.
He says, "Mr Grant, if you keep doing that, I think that
I will shoot again. It feels so good."
"You like that?" I ask, standing up.
"Hell Yeah!" he replies. "Can you do it again,
please?"
"Maybe another time," I say gently, tousling his thick
blond hair then caressing his shorts back up his body and over his spike and firm
glutes, which I give a good squeeze and a friendly little smack. Each side.
"Oh, thank you, Mr Grant," he gushes and hugs me. Then
he pulls away and looks at the dark patch on my pants. "You're all wet,"
he says, and I can't tell whether he's amused at my condition or if he's embarrassed
for me.
"It's OK," I tell him. "I'll wait in the car so
that William can't see it. Can you please see if he's ready yet?"
He gives me another quick hug then dashes off, leaving me to
make my way to the safe dimness of the car in the fading light.
I pull my shirt out to let it cover the wet patch then sit in
the driver's seat.
I expect to see Will emerge, but it is Kurt who skips down the
path. "What's wrong?" I ask, "Isn't Karl done yet?" Then I realise
that he is stifling a laugh.
He replies, "Yes, but William isn't. I told them to get
a move on because you and I have run out of things to talk about."
I think, `This kid's smart. He's given them just enough information
to make them question whether we did anything sexual together.' I extend my fist
to him and he bumps it with his own. "Nice work, sport," I tell him, and
he beams with pride at his own shrewdness.
We fill in the time by talking about the helicopter ride and
especially how he felt about being up there and looking down at everything.
Finally, Will emerges, followed by Karl. Both are grinning with
no thought of disguising the chunky evidence of what they have been doing.
Karl stays on the verandah. Will walks to the car and ruffles
Kurt's hair. "Sorry, mate!" Will says. "Maybe I can give you a turn
tomorrow. OK?"
"You'd better!" Kurt tells him feigning a pout, and
punching Will's shoulder, giving no hint that he had already been satisfied... by
me.
As Will walks around to the passenger's seat, Kurt winks at
me, then crosses his arms and stares at Will, mustering his best disappointed
expression.
Will
is unusually quiet in the car... for a couple of minutes, then he turns in his seat
to face me. "OK, what did you do with Kurt?" he asks.
I
glance at him to gauge the expression on his face. There's nothing that I can read.
"What
do you mean?" I ask, looking back to the road ahead.
"It's
very strange, don't you think," Will says, "that after you pulled up,
Kurt came in and told Karl and me to take our time when only a couple of minutes
earlier he was telling me to hurry up with Karl so that he could have `his turn'.
Then, when Karl spurted, I thought that the noises he made would have Kurt running
in, but he didn't come. Then, when he did come in again while Karl was getting me
off, Kurt had that same goofy expression on his face that he did when he came back
from the school the other day."
"Really?"
I put to him.
"Yeah.
And... there is a smell in this car that I recognise. Like you forgot the deodorant!"
he says, placing his hand on my upper thigh, as if to emphasise the point. If he
moves it much higher, he'll encounter the wet patch and then I'll face the prospect
of having to break the confidence that Kurt and I have pledged, or to make up a
bloody good lie!
"Will,"
I start. "There is something very important that I need to share with you."
"Aha!
I thought so" he replies and removes his hand. "What is it? And, by the
way, I'm not angry or upset at you and Kurt for playing with each other. He's been
after you since the day he grabbed you in the weir when he thought that you were
me."
"Yeah.
I remember that day, and the shocked expression on his face that you were able to
catch in your drawing. But it's not that."
"Then,
what?" Will asks, sounding a little disappointed that he was not going to hear
something spicy.
"I
learned something at the pub this afternoon. Something very serious," I tell
him. His silence invites explanation. "Have you ever heard of a curse on the
land to the west of the river?" I start.
"Go
to Buggery," Will replies.
"I
beg your pardon!" I say to him, shocked.
"No,
not you personally," he laughs at my response. "That's what Mick, the
publican's nephew used to call the curse. He used to come out here every Christmas
with some of his uni mates, but I haven't seen him since his uncle died a few years
ago."
"Do
you know what the curse is?" I ask Will.
"No,
not really. My mother used to say that that whatever it was, was a load of crap
and not to listen to old men's stories."
"I
think that we should talk about it tonight, with Marty," I tell him.
"OK,"
he says nonchalantly. Then he adds, "What's for dinner, cook?" The issue
with Kurt is averted... for the time being, at least.
"Let's
check the fridge and pantry and see what we can rustle up. Meat and vegetables.
You can pick the meat and I'll do the veggies."
"Deal,"
he chirps, then adds, "And you can peel the onions this time!"
As
soon as I pull up, he hops out of the car, collects his things from the back seat
and heads indoors.
When
I go in, the bathroom door is closed. That gives me time to change.
Will
emerges.
"I
think I'll throw on a load of washing," I tell him. "Anything that you
want done?"
"Yes,
actually," he replies, then continues, "And I think that Marty might have
a couple of towels too."
"You
raid Marty's room," I tell him, "and then put everything that needs doing
on a pile with yours and mine near the back door."
I
pick and choose the vegetables and leave the meat selection to Will while I load
and start the washing machine.
We
get everything going, both on the stove and in the oven.
"Come
here!" I tell Will. He looks at me strangely, but when I extend my open arms
he walks across and fills them. I enfold him and he does the same to me. "I
love you, William O'Brien Grant!" I say. "Have I told you that lately?"
"Not
enough!" he laughs back. We caress each other's body and just enjoy being as
one.
"Why
were you asking about some stupid curse?" he asks.
"Go
and sit down and I'll make us each a coffee and we can talk," I reply.
"You
sound serious," Will says to me. "I don't usually see you like this...
even at school."
I
want to laugh, but I can't.
I
hand him his coffee, sit next to him, then re-state the details of the Jintabudjaree
Curse, as I heard them.
"Have
they all got you believing that stuff?" he asks, light-heartedly.
I
then relate the 12 deaths, linked to sighting and the pronouncement of the `J' word
and cite, as possible victims, Helen's grandfather, Marty's dad and Julie Smith's
father.
His
expression has become more serious. "And, just why are you telling me this
now?" he asks.
"Do
you remember when we were up in the helicopter this morning and you pointed out
that building across to the west?" He nods and hums concurrence. "And
then we flew out that way for a bit of a closer look at it?"
"Yes,"
he says, drawing the word out slowly and cautiously, perhaps following my line of
thought and his earlier reason for keeping quiet about it.
"Well,
that was it, apparently! The old, cursed homestead. It's back! If you believe the
curse, then somebody is going to die, because the people in the public bar kept
saying `Jintabudjaree'! They didn't know that we'd seen it, but we had! If the curse
is real, then it has already been... activated."
"So,
who saw it first?" he asks. The frivolity in his voice and demeanour has now
totally dissolved.
"Uncle
Bill, apparently," I reply. "None of the children or parents mentioned
seeing it at school when we were talking about their flights." I explain my
thoughts to Will about who could be potential targets of the curse.
"But
our dad is friends with everyone," Will argues. "The target could be you,
or me, your father, mother, sister, anyone out here, Monika, Assistant Commissioner
Grayson, or any of his other lady friends, and who knows how many that could add
up to!"
Then
he looks deeply into my eyes and I can tell that the possibility of it being either
one of us, with the unthinkable consequences, has suddenly overtaken him. "What
if you make love to me tonight and then die of a heart attack from exhaustion?"
he asks, with an uncharacteristically wrinkled forehead.
If
it wasn't so serious a possibility, I would burst out laughing and say, `bring it
on!'
Ignoring
his question, I look at my watch and comment, "Marty's late."
He
looks at me and neither of us wants to express in words the thought that has just
shot through both of our minds, following my remark.
I
tell him, "Dinner's ready. I'll put everything into the oven on low heat and
cover it with foil. He won't be long."
"Hey,"
Will says, "I'll check out my emails and Facebook while we're waiting. Do you
want your tablet too?"
"Sure.
Thanks," I reply and deal with the cooked food while Will heads for the bedroom.
Time
ticks by.
I
close my email and the browser defaults to the MSN `local' Queensland news page.
I
stare at the headline that confronts me.
Without
a spoken word, for I am unable to speak, I indicate for Will to look at my screen
as I turn it towards him.
It
reads, << HELICOPTER CRASH NEAR CUNNAMULLA KILLS THREE>>.
For
innumerable seconds my breathing stops, my heart pounds, my eyes fill and my head
throbs. Then I hear the dogs bark.
My
first reaction is that Marty's home! At least, I hope that it's Marty and not a
police car.
(to
be continued)
There is a parallel version to this
story, told through the eyes of Kurt.
Find it at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/kurt-series/
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