Cameras and Cohabitation

Nell met me at my place and we both smoked a joint as we walked to the café. We found a table and chairs in the sun at our favourite café on Brunswick Street. It was definitely time for sunglasses, as the sun was bright and we were both still feeling the effects from what we took Saturday night. 

We both had coffees. I was waiting for my ham and cheese croissant. Nell had ordered some sort of Ice Cream Sunday, she said her weight was down again.

I was staring at the people walking by. I had a bit of a body hum going, which I kind of like, even if I’m never really sure if it is a good thing. There is a part of my that always wonders if it is my body working hard to get rid of the toxins.

“I like people who don't think it's wrong to hide tiny cameras in the bathroom to spy on their flatmate’s boyfriends.”

Nell pulled her shocked face, which I have to admit I kind of like. “You can’t say that, people will think you are weird.”

“Oh, let them think I’m weird, who cares,” I replied.

“Worst still, they’ll call the police on you,” said Nell.

“Yeah, you know how people love to do the right thing.” I made parenthesis in the air with my fingers.

“It’s because people are bored, or they see what interesting lives other people are having, and they want to spice their up” said Nell. “Then they can’t help it. I think it is in our DNA.”

“Spice theirs up?” I questioned.

“Sure. People are buttoned up, stressed out bored.”

“You think?” I sip my coffee.

“Yeah, sure,” said Nell. She puffs on a cigarette.

“Of course, I’ve never had to resort to that…”

Nell looks confused.” 

“Mini cameras.”

“Oh,” Nell mouths. She blows a perfect smoke ring, intentional, or unintentional, I wasn’t sure.

“I have always had a boyfriend.”

“Mat,” said Nell. 

“Yes, Mat, and others,” I said. “But, I like people who like such things.”

“Really?”

“That lack of fear.”

“What would Mat say?”

“Oh, he’d be in it sure,” I said. “You know, if we were talking about our housemate Nicholas.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Let’s say.”

“Let’s say,” said Nell. “What a waste he is to woman kind.”

Ah Nicholas, to watch you towel dry. How sexy you'd look wet, gazing down. Thick thighs, solid arse, big chest, that black hair and those blue eyes. How sexy were you, after we'd all taken those pills, standing there in front of me, in blue tracksuit pants, smiling, as I watched the blue fabric struggle to contain your fat sausage. You knew. You knew no one was looking, you stood for a while. It's hard to look anywhere else, when I'm sitting on the couch and your bulge.... Except for your smiling eyes and your knowing – e – look. You looked sexy when you brushed your arm against it, when Tim came back into the room.

“Um, hello,” said Nell. “Where have you gone? Come back to me now.”

I shook my head and refocussed on the present. Nell was looking at me with a concerned look on her face.

“You just checked out,” said Nell. “I was just about to check for your pulse.”

“What?” I laughed. “Ha ha.”

“Where did you just go?”

“Oh, I was just day dreaming.”

“I was concerned you were having a flash back to what we did on the weekend,” said Nell. “You know you read about it, people slip into a catatonic state…”

“I was just knocking on my unconsciousness’ door,” I said.

Nell looked horrified.

“Happily. It was a happily,” I said. “I could go back there.”

Nell could be a bit of a drama queen. She always said it was because she hung around with so many, actual, drama queens, and it had rubbed off.

My croissant came, with Nell’s ice cream Sunday, which was very elaborate.

“Look at that will you,” said Nell. She beamed at the sight of it.

“I like people who are open to any new ideas, not closed off according to what their parents have taught them.”

“Would you be horrified if someone secretly filmed you?” Nell asked.

I bit into the buttery, warm hamy goodness of my flaky croissant. “Nyr, I couldn’t care less.”

“I only think girls and gay boys would object,” said Nell.

“Girls and gay boys,” I said. “Is that misogynistic?”

We both laughed.

“I’ve never had a gay boy, so I can’t comment,” said Nell. “You’ve had a straight boy.”

“Ah Carl, I never knew a straight (Maltese) boy's cock would taste so sweet,” I said. 

“Oh, stop it,” said Nell. “Does he have a girlfriend?”

“A good thing Alison knows about our love affair.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, sure, they had an agreement.”

“Was he cool about it, you know, afterwards?”

"Guy's try to pick me up, like I'm a poofter, or something," I think, was the last thing he said to me, out that night the first time I'd seen you since we slept together.”

“That’s funny.”

“I like people who are honest,” I said. “How’s it going with what’s his name.”

“Ha ha,” said Nell. She rolled her eyes.

“Danko.”

“Ah Danko, Lebanese boys are so secretive about who chews on their foreskins. I thought I'd given up the back seat of Holdens years ago.” Nell laughed.

“What? I asked.

“Oh, I had to bang his brains out in the back of his Calais to get him to admit to who he’d been fooling around with.”

“What made you think that?”

“Stella said she knew.”

“And?’

“Well, he’s always honest, um, when he’s in that position…”

“State.”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“I don’t think there is enough blood to work both,” said Nell. “Seriously.” Nell laughed. “He just can’t function mentally to lie.”

“And.”

“He swears he hasn’t… and I just stop what I’m doing, what I’m doing, leaving him in suspended animation and he … um, if I said begs… ‘I haven’t babe, not me, I never would…no… no…no…can we please… can you…” said Nell. She mimics her boyfriend Danko perfectly.

“Wow that’s, that’s.” All I could do was laugh.

“But it’s bad news for Stella though, apparently its Armin.” Nell sucked her top lip into her mouth waiting for my response.

“Stella’s Armin?”

“Yep, been doing the dirty,” said Nell. “It looks like Stella has got it around the wrong way.”

The waiter came and we ordered more coffee.

Nell lit a cigarette. I had quit, but I must have looked longingly at her cigarette, and she picked her packet up and offered me one. I took it without saying a word. Nell flicked her lighter and lit it.

“I like people who are artistic,” I said. 

“Who are we talking about now?” asked Nell.

“Spiro.”

“Ah Spiro, how I’d like to run my hands through his curly hair.”

You were getting out of your car in those white, cotton pants. It was hot, so were you. You saw me looking. You followed me upstairs. I couldn't help but notice how much you grew. You looked so sexy as you masturbated for me. A (uncut) cock that is thicker in the middle than at each end, is so, so sexy. I won't tell your boyfriend, I promise. And no, it doesn't count, because we didn't touch, each of us just enjoyed the show.

“Hey,” said Nell. “You have tuned out again.

I snapped back into the present at the sound of Nell’s voice.

“Don’t do that, it is creepy,” said Nell. “Your sunglasses are so dark I can’t see your eyes, and it is as if you have just stopped working.”

I laughed. That joint we smoked was now really kicking my arse.

“Spiro gave me one of his paintings to hang in that group of paintings I have on the wall in the lounge room.”

“How is Spiro?”

“Oh…” I shook my head at the image that came to mind. “Yeah, he’s good.”

Our coffee came. Macchiato for me, and a latte for Nell. There was a plate of banana bread as well.

“A minute on the lips,” the waiter said as he put it down.

“Banana bread,” said Nell. She pushed the plate towards me.

“Don’t mind if I do,” I said.

“Rude,” said Nell, referring to the waiter. She was joking of course.

“I like people who are up front,” I said. 

“I saw Andre, did I tell you,” said Nell.

“The boy we both nearly had,” I said.

Ah Andre, I should never have turned you down that time you said, "I guess you want to have sex with me," after we'd shared ecstasy tablets. Mark told me that you bashed the last man you had sex with, afterwards. Call it intuition, I guess.

I shook my head. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

“You are like one of those wind up dolls, that just keeps running out of wind,” said Nell. “You feeling okay?”

“Actually, I feel kind of luscious, really chilled out.”

“You tell me if you become unconscious, won’t you?” Nell drags hard on a newly lit cigarette.

I take another cigarette from her packet and light it. She watches me as I do, but she doesn’t say anything.

“How do I tell you if I become unconscious?”

“Oh,” Nell looked at me and smiled. “Do your best.”

“I like people who are unconscious,” I said.

“What?” said Nell.

“Did I tell you about Jay and Jamie.

“No.”

Ah Jay, Jamie taking your cock out of your jocks and sucking it until it was hard, as the sun rose and you snored... he shook all over, apparently. You're a big boy, Jamie said. Then he was nervous – and guilty, just a bit – and slipped it away again. He said it was hot, too. I guess, it's not the normal thing for a gay friend to do to a straight friend. But you did crash tanked into his bed, in your jocks that Sunday morning as Jamie was trying to sleep after a night out on e. What did you expect?

“Hello,” said Nell. “Jay and Jamie? You wound down again.”

Then I was wondering if that was a story I should be telling. Young Jamie and my step son Jay collapsed into Jamie’s bed unconscious early Sunday morning.

“That’s a story for another time,” I said.

I puffed on my cigarette.

“I like people who are contented and honest,” I said.

“I ache for it,” said Nell.

“Honesty is a big turn on,” I said.

“No matter what they say?” said Nell.

“No matter what they say,” I said. “How else do you know who they are?”