Date: Fri, 24 Nov 2023 22:48:58 +1100
From: Alex Sullivan <sittingontheseat@gmail.com>
Subject: Thirstquenchers Chapter 1

Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places,
events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's
imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

© Alex Sullivan, 2023. All rights reserved. No part of this
publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or
by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or
mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. For
permission requests, write to the author at the following address:
sittingontheseat@gmail.com I also would love any feedback!


Thirstquenchers Chapter 1


As I unpacked my belongings -- crammed into some sixteen boxes and four
canvas bags -- an amalgamation of anticipation, apprehension, and
curiosity swirled within me. Constructing my wooden shoe rack and placing
it by the door, I could feel my new home slowly taking shape in the
quaint bungalow I'd inspected only two weeks prior. With a hilly
panoramic view on one side, with a grand view of the lake of the
surrounding suburbs on the other, I'd resolved to do whatever it took to
obtain and transform it into my sanctuary. After a rough couple of years,
residing in a new neighbourhood was just what I needed.

      I took a moment to admire the view of the late afternoon sun
through the front door, which I'd left open. It was a tantalising portal
to the greenery beyond. A warm breeze tousled my hair as I glimpsed a
figure across the street, stooped over the engine of a vehicle with an
air of unwavering purpose. Adorned with smears of grease and raw with
callouses, his hands moved deftly, deliberately. Intrigue seized hold,
compelling my gaze to linger. Men like him had always been an enigma to
me, usually commanding and hardened in a way I wasn't.

      I resumed unpacking, a box of crockery and china, but I was
struggling to focus. The man over the road commanded all my attention. I
couldn't help myself. I scoped him out from a distance with a sense of
fascination and perhaps much more trepidation than I'd like to admit. He
possessed an intangible allure with his strong command over the car's
engine. If I strained my ear, the refrains of hard rock emanated from
wireless speakers resting on the roof of the car he was working on. My
thoughts were brutally interrupted by my phone's buzzing. I swiped away
a push notification of the moving bill, then devoted myself to unpacking
again.

As the afternoon waned, I methodically arranged my desk for study,
alphabetised my wide three-tiered bookshelf, stacked the cookware and
crockery in cupboards, the cutlery and utensils in drawers, and organised
the bathroom cupboards and linen cupboard. As the radiant sun began its
descent that Friday evening, casting a warm, golden hue upon the horizon,
I reluctantly turned my focus toward my studies. It was a risky time for
this move, with exams coming up, but as I sat at my desk with my
textbooks, a resolute knocking on my door disrupted my focus. Intrigued,
I approached and opened the door.

`Hey, mate. Noticed you movin' in and thought I'd drop by with a little
welcome gift.' He held a six-pack of Melbourne Bitter in his right hand
like a bowling ball, fingers pressed through the cardboard.

A contagious vitality animated his being, announcing his presence with
exuberance.

`Oh,' I said. `Thank you. I appreciate it.'

`No worries. Always happy to lend a hand.'

I couldn't believe it was the man himself. His physical appearance
effortlessly aligned with the image I had conjured in my mind--sinewy
muscles, a glistening sheen of sweat, smeared grease, draped in a dirty
grey singlet showcasing his rugged arms. The fragrant essence of a nearby
bonfire permeated the air. He handed me the six-pack as my gut panged
with uncertainty.

`Leighton. Leighton McKenzie.'

`Oh,' I laughed, wiping my messed sandy hair back from my eyes with my
free hand. `Aidan Hart.'

Leighton's calloused hand reached toward me, and I mirrored his gesture
until our hands intertwined in a gritty clasp. I sensed formidable
strength and an unwavering resolve emanating from his touch.

`Come in,' I said, reflexively.

Leighton's commanding presence filled the space between us with an
intoxicating blend of intrigue and trepidation.

`Well, Aidan Hart, by the looks of it, your lawns aren't the only thing
that could use tamin',' he said.

I let out a knowing chuckle and scratched my stubble. He paced around my
kitchen-cum-living-cum-study, glancing over my textbooks and briefly
pursing his mouth.

`Tell ya what. I could swing by tomorrow and sort `em out if ya want?'
he said. ``specially since you've got a lot on your plate already.'

`Oh, that's so generous.' I placed the 6 pack down on the bench. `Do
you really mean it?'

`Of course. We look out for each other around here.'

`That'd be awesome. A massive help. Honestly.'

My phone sounded an alarm and I raced over and turned it off.

`I can always fuck off and come back if now's a bad time?'

`No, no, not at all. It's actually my alarm telling me it's time for a
study break,' I said with a smile.

`Say no more.' Wasting no time, he tore a Melbourne Bitter from its
cardboard, twisted off the cap effortlessly, and handed it to me.

`Oh,' I said, taken aback, feeling the cool weight of it in my hand.

Leighton deftly uncapped a second for himself and lifted the bottle his
lips, his grip exuding such purpose. I watched as he took a deep,
satisfying drink, the amber liquid flowing effortlessly down his throat.
The resulting satisfied expression and mischievous gaze spoke of the
unapologetic indulgence that had defined his adulthood. I stood there in
bare-faced awe of him.

`Everything all right, mate?' he asked, noticing me staring. `Haven't
touched your brew.'

I couldn't find the words and looked down at my feet.

`Shit, sorry. Is it something I said?' He unclasped his grey snapback
and turned it backward, tucking his unkempt black hair behind his ears.
`I'm always getting myself in trouble, ya know.'

`It's not that at all. You're fine.'

`You don't want me to fuck off?'

`No, it's me. Well, and it's my Dad,' I uttered, looking up at him.
`He was an alcoholic, so-'

He drew in and took the beer gently from my hand and put it on the bench.

`First things first, mate, I appreciate you sharing that with me. Takes
real guts.'

`I guess it's still very new to me, that's all.'

Leighton's gaze met mine, his pale blue eyes filled with understanding.

`I shouldn't have assumed, mate. I'm sorry.'

`Don't be sorry, you're being so nice and neighbourly. I've always
been a bit curious about it to be honest.'

`Oh yeah?'

`Yeah,' I said, feeling a weight relieved in just admitting this. `I
just saw him go too far with it.'

The prominent aroma of beer lingered in the air, reminding me of my
hesitations. Yet, in that moment, I felt Leighton's unwavering support
and his genuine desire to show me a better way.

`I can tell you've got your head screwed on, Aidan,' he said.

`I like to think so.'

`It's just about finding balance and control...and that thirst.'

`Well.' I folded my arms and found myself instinctually stepping
forward. `I am feeling thirsty.'

Leighton edged closer to me and put a hand on my shoulder.

`Yeah?'

I looked up at him, electricity surging through my whole body.

`Mmm hmm.'

`I won't force you to do anything. Trust me.'

`I trust you, even though we've just met,' I said, sniggering.

`Good.' Leighton smiled a gentle smile, then took the open bottle from
behind him on the bench. `Just let it all go.'

      At that, I blew out a huge puff of air, relinquishing a fraction of
my guardedness. He held the back of my neck and raised the bottle toward
my lips. Instinctually, I lowered myself.

`Relax, Aidan,' he said in a low, gravelly tone. `It's just you and
me. No one else.'

He tipped the bottle and slowly the beer cascaded forth. The taste,
bitter and foreign, assaulted my palate.

`It can be overwhelming at first,' he said. `But just relax and
breathe.'

My mouth started filling up, and, struggling to conceal my disquiet, I
yearned for the strength to swallow. I inhaled deep through my nostrils
and forced it down my throat.

`Good man,' Leighton said, revealing a subtle pride. `It's more than
just the taste. Just embrace the moment.'

`More,' I exclaimed with longing.

`Really?' asked Leighton, looking down into my eyes from above.

I nodded and groaned, keeping my mouth open. A mischievous grin emerged
on his face and he raised the bottled and tipped more steeply.

`Ready?' he said, pulling me closer toward him, this time his hand
plunging back into my hair.

More beer cascaded down, awakening my taste buds.

`Very good man.'

I breathed deeply through my nose and allowed myself to swallow as the
remainder the beer flowed, by Leighton's hand, into my awaiting mouth.
The liquid caressed my tongue, carrying with it a symphony of flavours
that were both unfamiliar and tantalising, revealing a newfound
appreciation for its complexity. I was gulping and swallowing back all I
could. What had started as a hesitant exploration had become an
undeniable craving.

`Damn, Aidan,' he said. `You weren't lying when you said you were
thirsty.'

I concealed a burp and stood up straight as Leighton put the empty bottle
on the bench.

`Wait, is that empty?' I asked, in shock.

`Yep,' he said. `You had it all to yourself.'

`Shit,' I said, letting out a relieved laugh.

He took the other bottle he'd opened. With a determined glint in his
eye, he tilted his head back and raised the bottle to his mouth. His
throat swallowed greedily, the beer disappearing with each relentless
gulp. As the bottle emptied, drops of beer escaped from the corners of
his mouth, trickling down his sun-kissed stubble and finding their way to
his well-worn singlet where it left amber stains.

`Damn,' I said, totally captivated by his display.

`Can't just let you have all the fun, can I?' he said.

With a knowing grin, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand,
smearing the remnants of the beer on his rugged, weathered skin. The beer
mingled with his sweat, creating an intoxicating aura that enveloped him.
Before I knew it, he was opening another.

`Come here,' he purred.

He turned me around and pulled me back against him; the shock of our
intimacy and of my comfort in his firm grip amazed me. How did I get here
with him? Instinctually, I leant back into him as he lifted the bottle
toward my mouth.

`You thirsty?' he whispered in my ear.

`Uh huh,' I replied.

He positioned the bottle's rim between my lips. He tipped upward and it
poured, gushing into my mouth and down into my throat. Its increasing
volume intensified my experience, momentarily choking me.

`Let it all go down, Aidan,' he said. `Just enjoy the taste and
swallow.'

By the warm vibrations of his voice against my back, my throat opened and
I swallowed the generous mouthful in one gulp, and before, I knew it,
more beer filled my mouth.

`Good good man,' he cheered, leaning in. `You're downing them like a
fuckin' pro.'

I pressed myself back into him, feeling his warm breath on my ear and
cheek. Leighton had unleashed a dormant thirst within me-- a longing for
adventure and that untamed spirit he embodied. His pouring had
transcended its mere physicality and had become a symbolic exchange: my
welcome gift. Once the third bottle was empty, Leighton moved away and
decamped a fourth bottle. He started chugging it, then held it out toward
me.

`Your turn,' he said, opening his arms. `Come here, Aidan.'

I moved back into him, pressing fully backward, and he nuzzled around me,
slipping the bottle opening into my mouth before raising it. As gravity,
ever the winner, prevailed, I welcomed the taste, savouring the bitter
notes and the burgeoning sense of belonging that had taken root within
me. In that moment, Leighton was more than just a neighbour--he was a
guiding force, my beacon of acceptance. With his pouring, he'd gifted me
the courage to embrace a world where the boundaries of possibility were
redrawn, a world that had previously seemed beyond my reach.

      I was heaving for air afterward and Leighton held me for a few
minutes as a I relaxed and came to terms with what I'd done; what he'd
allowed me to do. I gripped his arms and pulled him further around me.

`Was that really your first time?' he asked.

`Yeah. I've never had a sip before in my life.'

He turned me around and held the back of my head with his weathered hand,
pressing our foreheads together. I closed my eyes and felt his lips press
onto mine, lightly first, then softly coaxing mine to relax. I responded
and gripped at him, pulling him closer, as our mouths relaxed into each
other's, his tongue warm and wet as it brushed mine and retreated. I
took a deep breath and kissed him deeper and deeper, feeling an internal
welling up. I tried suppressing the tears, but they came gushing forth.
Leighton held me at arm's length.

`Are you OK? Sorry if you weren't ready to ki-'

`No, no, it's good,' I said. `It's just...I never thought I would...I
just...'

He cupped my face in his hands and wiped the tears from my eyes away with
his fingers.

`Be proud,' he said. `Your past is in the past and it's clear to me
you're working hard to change it.'

`Thank you,' I said, sniffling, unable to prevent myself from smiling.
`I've tried really hard.'

`I can see that,' he said, laughing. `I don't know who else would hit
the books on their first night after moving into a new place.'

I laughed too and went and drew a tissue from the box at my desk and blew
my nose. Leighton came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me,
pulling me back against his chest. I sighed into his embrace. He sighed
in response, and I let out a massive yawn.

`Suppose I should let you get back to it.'

`I guess so.'

Leighton prepared to depart, grasping the empty bottles masterfully
between his fingers. He left me with a parting thought--a gentle reminder
to consider his offer to mow his lawns, `Think about it.'

`I will,' I said, anxious.

`If you ever need anything -- anything -- you know where to find me.
Plus,' he said, removing his wallet from his jeans pocket, and fishing
out his business card. `Here's me.'

`Thanks, Leighton,' I replied, taking the card. `For everything.'

`Night, Aidan.'

I waved him goodbye and closed my door gently. I read over his card and
smiled to myself, knowing I'd be seeing him soon. I put the two
remaining beers in the fridge. The taste still lingered in my mouth, and
I rubbed my tongue around to savour it. I couldn't help but feel a tinge
of anticipation for what the future held, and what part Leighton might
play in it.


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