Date: Mon, 1 Nov 2010 07:31:08 +1030
From: Marcus McNally <marcusis32@live.com.au>
Subject: Love On The Rocks 1

This story contains sexual situations between two males. If material of
this nature offends you then you should not read this story.  If you are
under 18 years of age you are probably not legally allowed to read this
story.  This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to
persons living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely
coincidental. The author claims all copyrights in this story and no
duplication or publication of this story is allowed (except by the web
sites to which it has been posted) without the consent of the author.

*************

It wasn't until I'd fastened my seat belt in the Business Class cabin of
the aircraft at Melbourne Airport that I really believed I was about to
have a well-earned and long overdue break.

My job as a music industry lawyer specializing in contract law and record
and publishing royalties was usually pretty straight-forward, but for the
past several weeks I'd had my nose to the grindstone representing one of
Australia's top bands, who'd hired me to nut out a settlement with the
major American record company they believed had ripped them off blind for
the past three years.

The American company was notorious for employing heavy-handed and
intimidating legal eagles and while there were times there when I wondered
whether I was just a little out of my depth, I stuck with it and finally,
10 days ago, they'd caved.  They'd seriously underpaid record royalties and
they knew I had them by the short and curlies, and after a series of
ping-ponging email, it was kept from proceeding to court when they agreed
to reimburse more than $450,000 in unpaid royalties.

The band was over the moon, the law firm was thumping me on the back and
talking vaguely about a partnership and, best of all, I was on 5% of the
settlement.  That meant a cool $22.5K commission on top of my salary.

At 32, I was already earning a huge whack from a firm that only dealt with
top level clients, so I'd earmarked this additional bonus for a slap-up
holiday, my first in almost two years.  But instead of heading to Spain and
Portugal as I'd hoped, I was about to take off in a plane headed for
Queensland's Gold Coast.  In the past few weeks of legal jousting I'd
barely had time to scratch myself, and had completely overlooked renewing
my passport.

Still, Queensland wasn't so bad as a fallback.  I'd spent many a holiday
there soaking up the sun, especially on the Gold Coast and especially in
November, having been a "Coolangatta Gold" fanatic for years.

About 30 minutes drive south from Surfers Paradise, Coolangatta is usually
a holiday town but every year it teems with people from all over the world
who come to witness one of the premier events in the Australian sport of
Ironman, or surf lifesaving.  The Coolangatta Gold is an Ironman endurance
event and involves a 23km surf-ski leg from Surfers Paradise before a
return journey north that includes a beach run of 0.65km to Coolangatta, a
3.5km surf swim to Bilinga, a 4km beach run to Currumbin and a 5.5km board
paddle to Burleigh Heads before the final agonising 10km beach run from
Burleigh Heads to Surfers Paradise.  Believe me, only the strong survive.

Watching these elite athletes push their bodies to the limit is about as
thrilling as sport gets and for me, and no doubt thousands of other
spectators, the sight of powerfully built young men pounding past in skimpy
Speedos is about as erotic as sport gets!  Each year I'd silently give
thanks to the governing body who'd set in place a swimwear policy that
decreed that for all open water events where the competitor is required to
swim, the swimwear worn by males would be limited to a swimsuit that does
not extend beyond the navel or below the knees.

Because I couldn't leave Melbourne until my legal tussle was finalised
meant I'd missed this year's event by a few days, but I was still looking
forward to warm sun and breathtaking ocean views from the 5-star penthouse
I'd booked right on the beach.  I'd stayed there before and always felt at
home, and my balcony afforded me uninterrupted water views straight ahead,
while to my left and right I could feast my eyes on the near naked bodies
of the many tanned Aussie guys who'd stayed on for a holiday after the
Coolangatta Gold.

As the plane prepared to take off I lay back in my seat with a glass of
wine, closed my eyes and pictured a beach full of toned and tanned men; the
twitching in my pants only served to remind me that it had been quite a
while since I'd been laid.  In fact, aside from one or two hurried wanks in
the shower before work, I'd not even had time for any quality solo sex.
For the next six weeks I planned to totally relax and take matters into my
own hands whenever I damn well pleased!

Whether or not this break would enable me to hook up with someone hot
remained to be seen; I was certainly in no hurry for another relationship
after the last one ended so nastily eight months earlier.  A year into the
relationship I believed Aaron Greenwood and I had something special, but
that all changed when I returned home unexpectedly from a conference and
found him ass up in our bed, being royally fucked by some nasty piece of
bar trade.

Since then, whenever I've thought of Aaron I've thought "what an asshole"
and then smiled to myself because, when all was said and done, he certainly
had a spectacular asshole.  But no way did my concept of a `relationship'
stretch to him sharing that asshole within anything he picked up on a beat,
so within 24 hours I had him packed and out of my apartment.  The pleas for
forgiveness fell on deaf ears, and two months of constant mobile calls and
emails all went unanswered.  So here I was, mentally exhausted and horny
beyond belief, flying off to the Gold Coast on my own!

I was still going over those events in my mind when one of the flight crew
lightly touched my arm; "Mr Stewart, can you move your seat back to the
upright position for landing?"  I was pleasantly surprised that two hours
had passed so quickly.  The best part of flying Business Class is getting
off the plane quickly and having first dibs at the baggage carousel. I
strolled through Coolangatta Airport, aware of the sudden rise in
temperature after the chilliness of Melbourne.  My bags were through in the
first batch and as I loaded my luggage trolley, my eyes scanned the row of
limo drivers holding signs with names of them, most of them in Japanese.
The second last sign in the line read "Michael Stewart" and I pushed my
trolley over and shook hands with Brian, the middle-aged driver from Grand
Apartments who'd been sent to collect me.

Brian took over and got the limo packed and within a couple of minutes we
were driving off towards the apartment building.  As we pulled up, I
noticed the familiar and welcome figure of George, the apartment block's
long-time doorman, striding towards the car.  As we pulled to a stop, he
opened my door and said "Welcome Mr Stewart, it's a pleasure to have you
back".

I smiled as I stepped out of the car and as I shook hands with George, I
repeated what I said every time I arrived: "Good to see you George, and
call me Mike.  Mr. Stewart is my Dad!"

George ushered me through the impressive foyer and straight to reception,
where check-in was a prompt process.  Key in hand, George accompanied me to
the lift for our 30 floor ride.  George cleared his throat and said "You're
on your own, Mr. Stewart?", reminding me that the last time I'd visited had
been with Aaron.

"Yes George", I smiled.  "Just me this time".

"That's a shame," he replied.  "I liked Mr Greenwood."

I couldn't help but smile.  "So did I George," I said.  "But he turned out
to be a cunt!"

**********

As George opened the double doors leading into one of two top-floor
penthouses, I walked in and instantly felt at home.  Ahead of me,
breathtaking ocean views and all around me, beautiful d้cor.  Two huge
bedrooms, a massive lounge room and a central open kitchen, a whopping
marble bathroom, a laundry, and best of all, that enormous balcony with its
state-of-the-art barbeque, outdoor furniture and secluded hot tub.

Although it wasn't part of his duties, George always unpacked my bags for
me and I always gave him a generous tip.  Before he left, he presented me
with a complimentary chilled bottle of fine New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc
from the management, opened it and poured me a glass.  I stood sipping it
on the balcony, taking in the sights for a good hour before grabbing my
wallet and heading for the shopping strip around the corner to stock up on
supplies.

I hit the butcher, supermarket, deli, farmer's market, bakery and wine
shop, before stopping for my first take away coffee of the day.  I headed
back to the Grand Apartments, juggling two arms laden with bags and a
piping hot coffee.  As I walked through the foyer, my mobile rang and I
dropped onto a nearby couch to take a brief call from my office.  I put my
phone back in my pocket and took a sip of coffee.  And that's when I first
saw him.

Standing in a short queue texting on a mobile, surrounded by luggage and a
zipped up body board, he was, I think, the most incredibly beautiful male
I'd ever seen.  Standing about 175cm tall, what I could see of his body
outside his shorts and tee shirt was tanned and toned, his arms strong, his
legs muscled and well proportioned.  If he wasn't a Coolangatta Gold
competitor, he was a future contender.  His hair was dirty blonde and a
little curly, falling over his forehead and resting just above bright blue
sparkling eyes and long slightly curling eyelashes.  His face was flawless,
just in the transition period between youth and manhood, and when his
texting brought a smile to his lips, I noticed perfect dimples. If you
asked me to paint you a wet dream, he would be it.

For some reason, he looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't figure why.  I
knew I was staring but I couldn't take my eyes off him.  I wasn't aware of
anything around me until I noticed George, the doorman, hurrying towards
me.  He started to call out that I was about to spill my coffee but it was
too late; warm milk hit my lap and I jumped up, kicking over two bags of
groceries and sending oranges, apples and limes rolling across the highly
polished marble floor.

Only when my hand fell to my soaked groin did I realized that I was almost
fully hard.  George immediately started picking everything up while I
patted my wet crotch with a handkerchief, trying not to notice how many
people were looking at me.  When I did look up all I noticed was Board Boy,
who was looking straight at me with a cocky grin.  Embarrassed, I looked
away.  Damn.

"Thanks a lot George," I said.  "That was so stupid of me".

"Not to worry, Mr. Stewart." he replied, before adding "things in this
place can be distracting sometimes".  He smiled knowingly as he handed over
my bags of groceries and, still embarrassed, I thanked him again and
hurried to the lift.  As I headed back to my top floor retreat, I slapped
the side of my face.  "Seriously dude," I said to myself.  "What the fuck
is wrong with you?"

How had this guy - this kid – managed to reduce me to a clumsy, love
struck fool in little less then three minutes?  Christ, my attraction had
always been to guys my own age, maybe a little younger.  This kid was
... what?  16?  Seriously, what the fuck?  I thought it through and all I
could come up with was my lack of sex was making any hot guy that caught my
eye look like dinner.  Yeah, that was it.

Stripping off my coffee soaked jeans and everything else, I padded naked
into the bedroom and grabbed a speedo from my drawer.  Slipping it on I
grabbed my unread copy of "Deliver Us From Evil" by David Baldacci, and
headed for the balcony, silently wondering whether this thriller would be
the only `thrill' of my holiday.  I moved a sun lounge into the best spot
for maximum rays, covered it with a towel and settled in for a good long
read.

I got through a third of the book through the afternoon, stopping
occasionally to grab something to eat or drink.  I could feel the sun had
done me good, although I hoped I hadn't overdone it my first day.  I
relaxed under a warm shower and, drying myself off with one of the
apartment's soft bath sheets, was relieved to see I'd got some color but
hadn't burnt.  I threw on some shorts and a tee shirt, and phoned my
favourite home-away-from-home Chinese takeout to place an order, before
sitting down to watch the early evening news.  An hour later, a knock at my
door signaled the arrival of dinner.  I opened the door to George who
walked in and started serving some fine looking Asian cuisine on plates
which he then placed on the dining room table looking out over the water.
He poured me a glass of wine, graciously accepted a tip and left.

I sat and enjoyed the meal and the wine while taking in the calming view of
a rippling ocean as the Queensland sun began to set.  When I was done, I
went back to watching television until mid-evening when the urge to soak in
warm water became too much of a lure and I fired up the hot tub on the
balcony.  When it was ready, I slid off my shorts and tee and slipped into
the water, feeling every muscle instantly relax as I stretched out beneath
the bubbles.  The more tranquil I began to feel, the more I put any
thoughts of work and career from my mind.  But instead of focusing on
nothing in particular, I found my thoughts wandering to the boy with the
body board.  Damn.  Why was he still on my mind?  Sure ...  stunning looks,
magnificent body, and yes, I'd kill to see him in a speedo.  But he's a kid
for Christ's sake.  No longer jailbait, for sure, but fuck ... he's half my
age.

My mind could accept the absurdity, but my cock couldn't.  Beneath the
bubbles I felt it stir and then swell and within seconds it has lying rigid
against my tummy.  My mind caught on to what was happening and told my arm
to slip beneath the water and my hand to grasp my gonads.  I sighed aloud
as my fingers closed around my ballbag, sagging in the warm water.  I
gripped my balls, and gently massaged them as my cock throbbed menacingly
above.

If there's one thing above all others that I've been grateful for in life,
it's that nature – and probably my old man – blessed me with a good
sized cock.  I won't pretend I'm one of those horse-hung porn stars we've
all seen online, but it's a bloody good handful nonetheless; long, thick
and cut.  None of the girls I fucked early in my sexual life ever
complained about it, nor did the guys who replaced them when I finally
acknowledged to myself that while pussy is pleasurable, penis is preferred!

My hands started to pump my boner as my mind drifted back to that first
man-on-man experience when I was 17, and sharing the spa at the local pool
with a lifeguard of about 28.  He was a nice, friendly guy and I liked the
way he didn't pretend to be too cool to chat with a student.  We sat
side-by-side in the swirling water and shot the shit for a while before I
felt his hand on my thigh.  I was trying to figure out whether I should
stop him or just play cool when his hand slipped down and encircled my
balls, and I had my answer.  Neither of us opened our eyes as he stroked my
throbbing cock in a way no girl had ever come close to and, without even
thinking about it, I moved my hand between his legs and took hold of his
rampant dick and slowly pumped him to a mind-blowing climax that hit at the
same time as mine.  I never knew his name and I never saw him again, but I
have much to thank him for.

Ironically, when that older guy helped me unveil my true sexuality I was
the same age as the kid downstairs.  Suddenly I was back to thinking about
Board Boy.  My mind registered bewilderment but my cock throbbed in my hand
and I gave in to images of my teen obsession taking his morning shower ...

As corny as it sounds, the lyric of "Cavatina", the theme from `The Deer
Hunter', swirled in my head:

"He was beautiful, Beautiful to my eyes, From the moment I saw him, Sun
filled the sky"

Rapidly my hand started moving up and down my stiff shaft as visions of
Board Boy soaping his abs and running his hands down to his pubes danced in
my head.  I was unable to stop my hips thrusting upward to meet my pumping
fist, and from what seemed a long way away I heard my own low moans.  I
actually cried out as my nuts emptied and I felt like I'd left my body as
my cock shot a steady stream of cum above the bubbles to land on my face,
chest and stomach.

It took me some minutes to recover before I pulled myself from the surging
tub and dried off.  Still baffled how a teenager had managed to consume my
thoughts, but relaxed from such a powerful ejaculation, I sat with a glass
of wine and watched the late business news in my boxers before turning in
for the night.

**********

As usual in Queensland, the bright morning sun meant I woke early, and I
lay in bed for about half an hour listening to the gentle lapping of the
waves and the hungry cries of the seagulls waiting to be fed by beachgoers.

I was up by 7am and, after a quick shower, I threw on my shorts and a tee
shirt and headed off for a morning run along the beach.  The sunbathers
weren't yet out in force and the beach was deserted except for a handful of
surfers riding waves.

I ran for about a kilometer before sitting on the sand and gazing out to
sea for a while, and then ran back to my starting point, taking a small
detour to grab a croissant, a banana and a take away coffee.  Back in my
apartment, I headed out to the balcony and took in the view as the caffeine
worked its magic.

Below me were the windows of the owner-occupied apartments, most of which
still had their curtains drawn.  As I watched, the curtains of one of the
more luxurious apartments were pulled back and there, to my surprise and
delight was Board Boy standing at his bedroom window, looking out to sea.
It was obvious he'd just woken up; wearing only a pair of plaid boxers, his
hair was a mess but he was still a vision.  I knew I shouldn't be looking,
but he was unaware of my presence and I found I couldn't avert my eyes.

I watched him scratch his head and mess his hair even more, before
extending his arms above his head and yawning.  He stood at his window for
another minute or so, rubbed his chest with one hand and scratched his
balls with the other, before moving further into his bedroom.  I'd only
watched him for a couple of minutes but already I felt a stirring in my
shorts.  Fuck, it had a long time since I'd had sex!

I distracted myself by finishing my breakfast and showering, throwing on
sweat pants and a tee, before wandering back on to the balcony with a cup
of tea.  I kidded myself that I was appreciating in the vista, but the only
view I found myself taking in was Board Boy's bedroom window.

I felt an adrenalin rush when I realized he'd gone back to bed.  I couldn't
see his face, but I saw the can of Coke on his bedside table and his body
from the head down, lying flat on his bed, boxers around his ankles and
cock in hand.

He was unashamedly having a wank, one hand playing with his balls, the
other pumping his shaft.  Either he was in a hurry because there were other
people in the apartment, or he was just plain horny and needed some quick
relief.  Either way, the urgency of his stroking with his ass raised
slightly above the mattress was evidence that he was about to drain the
spuds.

Mesmerised by the sight, my hand slipped down the front of my sweats.  I
squeezed my hard cock and my fingers massaged the angry helmet.  I jacked
in time with the tantalizing teenager below, my eyes focused on his hand
moving up and down his thick morning glory.

Soon enough he arched his back as he continued to stroke his beautiful
prick with the customary urgency of his age group.  I wished I could have
heard the sounds he made as the first long jet of hot white cum shot from
the head of his cock and splattered on his chest. It was quickly followed
by four more ribbons of teen cream.  .

I watched as he sank back into his mattress and released his cock, running
his palm across his stomach and spreading pools of semen across his belly.
I felt a quickening tightness in my balls and after a couple more tugs on
my dick inside my sweats, I closed my eyes and grunted through a
knee-buckling orgasm.  When I opened them, Board Boy was gone, no doubt in
his bathroom doing the big mop-up.

I needed to clean up too, and as I headed towards my own bathroom I was
struck by the realization that I'd actually spied on a kid half my age
getting his rocks off, and that I'd not only boned up at the sight but had
squirted a load while doing so.  And it was only 9.30 in the morning ...

**********

After lunch, with the sun at its peak, I was heading to the pool and as I
walked through the lobby, I noticed Board Boy was walking slightly behind
me, carrying his body board.  He was wearing surf shorts, a tee shirt and
sandals, and he was obviously headed for the beach.

I have no idea why but I felt myself flush.  As he padded past, he glanced
at me and smiled, showing a set of perfect teeth.  It wasn't a smug smile
and I was sure he didn't know I watched him enjoying his solitary pleasure
earlier in the day.  It was just a polite gesture.  His parents had
obviously taught him good manners, and had a good dentist.  I sighed
inwardly.

Lying beside the pool, I was able to get through half a chapter of my book
before I was joined by four teenage girls, who giggled and shrieked and
talked very loudly, as teenage girls do.  I moved as far from them as I
could before finally giving up and going back to my apartment to watch
motor racing on the big screen.  Stretched out on the couch, I enjoyed a
late afternoon snooze, visions of Board Boy riding the waves dancing in my
head.

I didn't see him for a couple of days.  There appeared to be no movement in
his apartment and the curtains remained closed.  By the third day, I
figured he must have gone home already.  He'd been on my mind, on and off,
as I busied myself with being a holiday-maker, and I was almost relieved at
the thought he'd checked out.  Even though I knew that nothing was ever
going to happen, I was happy that temptation was taken out of my hands.

On my fourth morning, after breakfast and a run, I threw on my speedo,
grabbed my book and headed back to the pool only to find, to my annoyance,
that the teenage girls were there again.  The sun was high in the sky and
most of the sun lounges were occupied so I had no choice but to sit close
to them.  At least this time they weren't quite so boisterous and I was
able to read, vaguely aware of their chatter about boys.

My ears pricked up when they mentioned the "gorgeous guy" who'd checked in
a few days before, the one with the dirty blonde hair and body board.  My
surfer?

When one girl wondered where he was, another chipped in with the news that
he'd been injured on the rocks at the beach.  Apparently, he was climbing,
missed his footing and fell to rock ledge below.

I stopped reading completely and surreptitiously hung on their every word.
It had taken a while for lifesavers to reach him and, while he was a little
cut and bruised, nothing was damaged, except maybe his pride.  He'd hurt
his back and thighs and would have to stop his marathon training while he
recuperated.  The girls weren't sure, but they thought he was on his own.

I wasn't sure what to think.  Should I knock on his door, and show concern?
Would that be weird?  Should I be neighborly and slip a note under his
door, offering to pick up some groceries for him?  Or should I simply act
my age and accept that he's a kid and, like most kids, would survive
perfectly well when left to his own devices?

These were questions that had no answers, so I put it all out of my mind
and wandered into town for dinner.  I went to the local pub for a counter
meal and enjoyed a couple of beers.  At the bar, I got talking to a hot
looking guy named Andy, who was all enthused about the Coolangatta Gold.
When he realized I'd missed it, he filled me in on every small detail.

We ended up shooting a game of pool together, but any hope that he might
enjoy something thicker than a pool cue in his hands was dashed when his
girlfriend turned up.  He introduced her as Paige and told me they'd met
only a few days prior.  They were heading out for dinner at one of the
seaside restaurants and when Paige went to the toilet, Andy winked at me
and said "I reckon tonight's the night, mate".

"You think so, mate?" I replied, trying to sound interested.

"The way I figure it," he grinned, "Dinner then back to my hotel room and
by midnight she'll be up to her guts in nuts!"

"Half your luck mate!" I laughed.  And I meant it, except I'd be wanting to
empty my nuts in his guts, not her's.

They left, and as I finished my beer I looked around the bar.  There were
no more likely candidates, so I wandered back to the apartment and ended my
night watching TV in bed!

**********

The next morning I woke a little later than usual and, after a quick
coffee, set off on my run.  It was close to noon by the time I returned,
and after some fresh fruit and another coffee, I threw on a speedo and
grabbed a beach towel and my book.

The day was hot but overcast, and barely anyone was by the pool because the
sun wasn't shining.  Thankfully, there was no sign of the teenage girls
from the previous day.

I read for a while and when a waiter happened by, I ordered a beer and a
light lunch.  I'd been reading for maybe half an hour when the sound of
someone trying to open the pool gate made me look up.  There he was!  It
was Board Boy, wearing board shorts and a tee shirt, and hobbling along on
one crutch.

He was having no luck maneuvering the safety locked, so I jumped up and
opened the gate for him.  He thanked me as he hopped through.

I saw my chance and said, "I'll fix you a lounge" as I took his towel and
threw it across the sun lounge positioned next to mine.  I took hold of one
of his arms and moved the crutch to help him lower himself.

"Been in the wars, mate?" I grinned.

"Yeah, slipped on the rocks," he replied.

"Do much damage?"

"Well, I fell on my ass, so I've got a sore lower back and me butt hurts
too."

Without my asking, he lifted his tee shirt and showed me his scratches and
some light bruising and then lay to his side and lowered his shorts a
little to show me the abrasions he had on his lower back.  I made all the
right sympathetic noises, but I couldn't take my eyes off the promising
crack of his ass.

When he sat back up, I held out my hand and said, "I'm Michael, by the
way."

Shaking my hand, he replied, "G'day, I'm Scott.  Is it Michael or Mike?"

"Either way is cool," I smiled.

"You here with your family on holiday?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm having a break from work for a while, been a big year," I
replied.  "But I'm here on my own.  How about you?"

Turns out Scott was on his own, too.  He was on school holidays after
completing Year 11, so that would put him at about 17, a little older than
I guessed.  He was minding his older brother's luxury two-bedroom
apartment, which was still being renovated.  In a couple of days, his
brother would join him for the remainder of the week, and then they'd both
be heading back to the family sheep and cattle station near Stanthorpe in
Queensland.

We chatted about school and life on a sheep station for a while, before
Scott asked what I did for a living.  I told him I was a lawyer and that my
area of expertise was music industry contract law and royalty recovery,
which seemed to fascinate him. It wasn't just the usual questions I get
from kids his age, like `have you met anyone famous'.  He seemed genuinely
interested in what my job entailed.

I'd just finished telling him about the royalty battle I fought – and
won – on behalf of a very famous Australian band, when my lunch arrived.
It was one and a half bacon, lettuce and tomato toasted sandwiches with a
side of fries, and without being obvious, he was eyeing it hungrily.

"You hungry, mate?" I asked and, embarrassed, he said no.  But I figured
he'd probably been stuck in his apartment for a couple of days with his
injuries eating God only knows what.

"It's a pity," I continued.  "I didn't know when I ordered it that it was
gonna be this big, and it's way too much for me to eat.  I'll be chucking
most of it out."

I pushed the plate towards him and after a brief pause, he pounced on it
and demolished two of the three slices, as well as most of the fries.  His
enthusiasm made me laugh and after a moment of embarrassment he admitted
that being a student, he didn't have a lot of cash, and what he did have
had been depleted by the doctor's bill and the hire of the crutches.  He'd
been eating baked beans and canned tuna for three days.

Replete, he lay back on his lounge and stretched his arms.  My eyes were
drawn to his armpits and the tangled sweaty mess of hair that I longed to
bury my face in.  The full body stretch that followed afforded me a glance
at the prominent and promising bulge in his tight board shorts.  Expert
intuition led me to realize he'd gone commando. This kid was sizzling.

But he was 17, damn it.

I asked him what the next step in his recovery would be.

"The lifeguard said I should see a masseur," he said.  "There's a guy he
recommended in Surfer's Paradise, but I reckon he's probably too
expensive."

"I could give you a massage if you like," I replied, trying to sound as
nonchalant as I could.

Scott laughed.  "Since when does a lawyer know anything about massage?"

"Well, smart ass," I shot back, "I actually have a Diploma in massage
therapy."

"Really?"

"Really.  When I was in at Uni studying law, I paid my own way by working
part-time as a waiter.  But it didn't bring in enough bucks to cover my
expenses, so I had to find something else to supplement my income.  I chose
massage because mostly clients pay in cash."

"So you're a tax evader?" Scott smirked.

"I was a tax evader, but I've certainly made up for it since," I replied.
"And I'm a bloody good massage therapist."

"OK then.  How much?"

I chuckled.  "It's a freebie," I said.  "I couldn't take money from a
cripple!"

"Cool!" Scott beamed.  "When?"

"Well, what's say 7, and I'll barbeque us a couple of steaks first?"

"Man, I'd kill for a steak!  Looks like you've got yourself a deal.
Whereabouts are you?"

I pointed to the top floor of the apartment block.  "The one on the
corner."

"You mean the penthouse?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"That's the one."

"You rich or something?"

"Yeah, something like that," I smiled.

My mobile rang and I took an apologetic call from my office.  Something
urgent had come up and I needed to go back to my apartment and email them a
file.  I excused myself and told Scott I'd return soon.  I was back
poolside 20 minutes later, but Scott was nowhere to be seen.

I lay in the sun for another half an hour before packing up and returning
to my apartment. I couldn't believe that in a few hours, I'd be rubbing my
hands over Board Boy's hot body, but I quickly reminded myself that I'd
made a professional offer.

"He's only 17," I kept telling myself ...

**********

Please feel free to email me your comments.  marcusis32@live.com.au