BusinessForce

"I don't want to go back to the call centre," said Kevin.

"Nobody wants to go back to the call centre," said Justin. "You should have studied harder in school, Kev. You should have studied harder."

"Fuck off," said Kevin. "You know... you know... I..."

Justin slapped Kevin on the back. "Oh, come on, let's not go back over that," said Justin. "He touched you, we all know he touched you." Justin punched Kevin on the arm. "Come on, come on Chook should be home now, we can get some gunga."

"I sooooo don't want to go back to the call centre."

"Come with me and soon you won't even be thinking about it."

"Call centre hell!"

"Ah, call centre hell," said Justin. "Back to Camp Guantanamo."

Kevin made a noose and rope motion above his head. "I'm not going, you can't make me. I'd rather..."

"Kev, I'm not going to make you do anything," said Justin. He put his arm around Kevin's shoulders and he gave his buddy a squeeze, which felt oddly nice, reassuring. "No one is sending you back to hell, mate."

Kevin could feel himself physically relax with his buddy’s touch. Kevin put his arm around Justin, as if for support as they walked down Droop Street.

Chook's door was once painted red, but at some stage someone had tried to paint it black, but had done a lousy job, the red bled through like it might under a scab, Kevin always thought. The creeper on the front of the house was so over grown that the window was beginning to be lost in amongst the foliage. The womb, Kevin thought, he’d smile to himself when he thought that it needed a Brazilian.

Justin knocked on the door. Nothing. Justin knocked again.

"He's not home," said Kevin.

"Chook's home, Chook is always home." Justin knocked again. He knocked again. Then he pounded on the door.

"Police!" yelled Kevin.

Justin reeled around looking alarmed at Kevin. "What are you doing?" Justin raised his hands in the air. "What the fuck?"

"I thought it would get him to open the door quicker."

"You are not a bright fucker, are ya?" said Justin. "You want Chook going over the back fucken fence." 

The door cracked open. "Who is it?" a croaky voice asked.

"Justin."

The door was suddenly flung open. "Jesus, fuck me it's bright.” Standing in front of Kevin and Justin was a tall, lean, pale-skinned streak of a male with his hair standing on end, his eyes half closed, shirtless naked, semi-muscular torso, with dirty crimson track pants, sitting diagonally low on his hips to expose his pubes and the very top of his dick shaft. He put one hand to his face, as the other hand tugged his pants up at the front. The track pants had the left leg torn off below the calf. 

Kevin could only assume that this was Chook.

"Did some cunt say police?"

"Just my boy Kev," said Justin. "He thought it was funny..."

"Fucken retarded," said Chook.

Kevin started to say something, but Justin covered his mouth with his hand. "They are the first words this retarded mute has said since his mother and father were torn to pieces by dogs in front of his very eyes..."

Kevin looked at Justin with wide questioning eyes, still with his hand firmly over his mouth. Justin met his gaze, his eyes widening as if a command.

"Did he get that on his iPhoned," said Chook. "I'd sure fucken love to have seen that."

"Na mate."

Kevin licked Justin's fingers with his tongue. Justin squeezed Kevin's face hard enough to cause Kevin pain and to stop him licking his hand. Kevin stopped licking with a short whimper and a shiver.

Someone had been drawing on Chook's face with red biro, outlining his mouth and his eyes, adding a Hitler tash below his nose. Kevin assumed Chook hadn’t done it himself. Kevin tentatively bought his hand up to his face as though he was trying out drawing on his own face.

"You'd better get the fuck in here before the boy's in blue turn up," said Chook. "I can't afford any more pay offs this week. Um, er, I'm already carrying stock depletion because of the last one."

The hallway was dark when Chook closed the door behind them. There was some light seeping in from the tears in the curtains covering the glass next to the front door, but beyond where they were standing, it was like looking into a cave. There seemed to be multiple layers of carpet covering the floor, just waiting to trip someone up.

"Go on, go through, or do you want a fucking tour?" said Chook. "You've got in here often enough to know the fucken way to fucken go." 

Chook laughed a throaty laugh, like a huge chunk of phlegm had just let go in the back of his throat. He coughed and coughed until he, clearly, hacked it up into his mouth, then he spoke through the liquid veil over his teeth, like his words were wet. 

"Even if you don't remember the way ou..." His vocabulary failed him and he resorted to grunting and pointing, seemingly angrily. Maybe not.

The house stunk of stale smoke and BO. The curtains were closed in the lounge room too, in fact, all of the curtains in the whole house seemed to be closed. There was a huge TV diagonally across one corner of the room, blaring Jerry Springer. There was a thick cloud of smoke hanging in the air. When Kevin looked passed the blue light of the screen, every square centimetre of the wall space was covered in shelves covered in knickknacks, vases, plates, figurines, jugs, statues, clocks, boxes, crystal... in a mind boggling display.

"A lot of shit, hey?" Justin's words broke into Kevin's observations.

"It's not shit," cried Chook. "They are my fucken treasures…"

“Opshop finds,” said Justin, dismissively.

“One day, one of them is going to make me fucken rich, you wait. I’m gunna unearth a Da Vinchy."

There was a brown couch in the middle of the room, a coffee table in front of it and an armchair next to the both of them. There was a bong on the table, a huge porcelain bowl with a huge mix in it. Every square centimetre of floor space was covered with tables, tea trolleys, chests, foot stools, ottomans, poofs, all sorts of small, occasional furniture, in varying sizes and shapes.

"Take a seat," Chook commanded from the door, talking over the TV, as he entered the room. "On the couch!" He pointed to the chair. "That's my fucken spot!" He stood in front of them, sliding one hand down his track pants and scratching himself and one hand picking at his unkempt hair as though he had nits. "Did you bring that money you owe?"

Kevin thought it looked like a maze, he hesitated and then stepped his way through carefully.

"Yeah," said Justin. He started to pull $100 notes out of his pocket.

"Keep it!" said Chook. "You're a good bloke..." He pushed Justin's hand full of cash back into Justin's chest.

"Customer," said Justin.

"Mate," said Chook. "Money drives me batshit crazy. It destroys people." He sat heavily in the chair. He picked up the remote and muted the TV, suddenly there was silence. "Some bitch has had a baby with her fucken brother, do you believe it?" He reached out for the bong. "Wanna a smoke?"

"Yes," said Kevin, perhaps too quickly.

Justin slapped Kevin. "Yes," he said too.

The bong was already packed, Chook moved it to his mouth. He flicked the lighter and held it to the cone. The water gurgled and hissed. Chook sucked the entire contents of the cone up in one draw, pulling a face of such pain Kevin was sure he was going to expire before his very eyes. Chook's mouth contorted in an ugly way. He seemed to have the circular breathing of a didgeridoo player, he seemed to be leaking smoke from every hole in his head as he finished sucking it in. A cloud of smoke wafted up into the stale air of the house above him. 

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Chook groaned and moaned all at the same time as he exhaled, deep, guttural from deep within him. Then he coughed.

"So," said Chook. There still seemed to be smoke seeping from all of his pores, if smoke had been leaking out of Chook's arse, Kevin wouldn't have been surprised. "What do I owe the pleasure..." Chook was stuffing mull into the bong cone. He handed the bong to Justin. Justin flick, flick, flicked the lighter and then drew in deeply on the bong.

"We just wanted a smoke," said Kevin. He decided to fill in the silence that was created by Justin's turn on the dirty glass vessel. Justin turned to Kevin looking somewhat alarmed with Kevin's honesty.

Justin tried to talk immediately. "Um... er... no... no..." Justin held out his hand to Kevin.

"What? Ah?" Kevin suddenly felt nervous.

Chook laughed out loud. "What? Fuck! No, no, no Justin, I like your boy's honesty." He laughed again and got up on his chair like a crab might sit in a chair. He took the bong from Justin, who lay back in his chair and blew his smoke towards the mud coloured ceiling.

"Thank the fucken Christ for someone fucken honest. Good for you buddy. Good for you. Bra-fucken-vo. I get sick of these piss-ant cunts coming around here sucking my fucken blood dry and trying to call it something else."

Chook handed the bong to Kevin. "You suck cock, Kevin?"

Kevin didn't know what to say to Chook's bluntly honest question.

"We didn't JUST come around for a smoke," said Justin. Kevin noticed Justin's eyes were big.

"Fuck my arse you didn't," said Chook. "I'm allowed to have soooocial calls anyway. It doesn't always have to be running the fucken empire, you know."

"I... I... I..." Kevin stumbled. He was making an attempt at answering Chook's question. He wanted to capitalise on his new found acceptance. "I might..."

"Relax, dick!" Justin slapped Kevin across the chest. "It isn't a proposition, it is a question."

Kevin’s answer was repeating in his head, as he put the bong to his lips and flicked the lighter. He relaxed the back of his throat and sucked on the mouthpiece. The hot smoke burned the back of his throat and he felt like he wanted to cough, but he concentrated all of his efforts on not coughing, relaxing his throat more and more and more until he'd sucked the whole cone into his lungs. His throat was burning and he desperately wanted to cough, but he didn't, he held out. He didn't quite know how he managed it, but he did. He was sure it had something to do with Chook's newly found admiration of him. He wanted Chook to like him.

"You're alright," said Chook. He winked at Kevin. The red biro outline around Chooks eye moved as he winked accentuating the gesture, leaving Kevin to wonder if Chook was really coming on to him.

“How’s business?” asked Justin.

“Sweet,” said Chook. “I’ve almost got me nothing to do, ever since I put the call centre to work.”

“The call centre?” asked Justin.

“Yeah, 1300 MRS HLP.” Justin looked confused. “I sell baby clothes.” Justin looked even more confused. He glanced over at Kevin momentarily and then he looked back at Chook. “Home fucken delivery,” said Chook.

“What?” asked Justin. “You sell what?” He sounded confused, but more than that he sounded disappointed, disappointed that Chook had gone legit. “Baby clothes?”

Chook had kept a deadpan face, but then his, what would have been a handsome face under the wild hair and the red colouring in, broke into a broad smile. “Yeah, fuck head, I sell baby clothes.” Chook roared with laughed. He looked at Kevin. “I sell fucken baby clothes, do you fucken believe it.” Kevin didn’t know what to believe.

“What?” said Justin.

“I’m getting into the baby care business.” Chook laughed some more. He picked up the repacked bong and flicked the lighter. He sucked hard on the glass mouthpiece. He coughed and smoked chugged out his mouth with each chug. “You crack me up, fucker.” He took the cone out of its slot and banged it into the ashtray.

“What the fuck?” said Justin.

“I sell baby clothes,” said Chook. He put the cone back into the bong. He picked up some mix from the mull bowl and put it into the cone. He handed it to Kevin.

“Don’t give me the shits,” said Justin. He was clearly getting sick of being made a fool of.

“I’m still in business. I’m putting my calls through BusinessForce, so my phone doesn’t ring off the hook.” Chook paused for effect, letting the fact sink in. “I had to get some legit cover, to get my phone answered for me. I can’t exactly have the punters calling up and asking for a quarter and 5 points, now can I.”

“Through BusinessForce?”

“Yep…”

“You sly fucker,” said Justin.

“Frank Positano, the owner, buys coke from me.” Chook shrugged.

The smoke burned the back of Kevin’s throat, as much as he didn’t want to cough in front of Chook he couldn’t help it.

“You don’t cough, you don’t get off,” said Chook sympathetically.

“You got other people taking your orders for you?”

“That’s right. And I’ve got a couple of illegals making the deliveries…”

“Illegals?” asked Justin.

“A couple of Viets who’ve over staid their welcome, shall was say.”

“Deliveries?” asked Kevin.

“We do home delivery,” said Chook. “You got a licence?”

“Sure,” said Kevin.

“Do you want a job?”

“Oh… um?” said Kevin.

“You got a car?” asked Chook.

“Yeah.”

Chook looked at Justin. “So I am now in the coordination business,” Do they call that analytics?" he said. “Arm’s length, man.”

“Arm’s length,” said Justin.

“Like we always said,” said Chook.

“Like we always said,” said Justin.

Like who always said to who, thought Kevin.

“I organise A to collect B from C and to deliver it to D in exchange for E,” said Chook. “A then delivers E to F and I transfer F to G. I then transfer H to A. At the end of every month I transfer J to C. And life is sweet.”

“Sweet,” said Justin.

“And the king sits in his counting house, counting his fucking money.”

“I told you all those years ago it would work,” said Justin, clearly in awe. And you did it.”

“Getting the punters to say the right thing on the phone to sweet little Kylie doing her part time job on her one of her two days off from uni is the weak link. That will need a contingency plan, but other than that…”

“Arm’s length.”

“As the Bishop said to the actress, as long as you don’t, actually, get caught with your hands in their knickers, everything else can be handled by a good lawyer,” said Chook. He and Justin laughed. “I had no idea officer that they were delivering gunger.” Chook pulled a clueless face and looked around the room like a halfwit. “He just came here to give me a massage, if you know what I fucken mean. Nudge, nudge, fucken wink!”

“Is it a crime to like them hairless,” said Justin.

Justin and Chook roared with laughter.

“They could be shaved,” said Justin. “Don’t get me wrong.”

Kevin suddenly had no idea what they were talking about.

Love In Dark Places

Piss and shit and puss and vomit – you are getting fucked mindlessly at 3am blind drunk off your mind – you are spewing in the garden as the guy who just fucked you wipes your shit off his cock. Your phlegm is sprayed across the grass glistening in the moon light. He has sticky shit skin fingers, you can see them sticking together when you look back. His wedding ring is gold, occasionally glinting in the dim light. You have vomit flavoured, sour breath, you can taste it. He has a sticky foreskin with raisons of your shit under it. What can you say, this was unexpected. If you'd known, you'd have come prepare, still, it didn't slow him down any, now did it, he got right in there. Fuck it felt good, getting opened up like the little bitch that you are. You can see his choc chip knob as he pulls his foreskin back. He tries to shake it off. The smell of your shit is in the air.

He looks up at you with those eyes. Sexy or menacing? The eyes of a lover, or a psychopath, you are really not sure. You think they are the reason you liked him. The way he looked at you. Was it menacing, or commanding? It was the eyes, it had to be, as he wasn't much of a talker.

The wind blows cold in the dark. Bitter is the wind at 3.30am.

You shiver cold in the night. You start to say something, you don't know what. Words. Just say something.

He calls you a dirty faggot, before you feel his fist in your face. Crack! Bone hitting bone, that's what you feel. A sudden impact, unexpected. You stagger backwards. Dazed. You bring your hand to your face, automatically. Your face is wet, also kind of sticky, like treacle. It is numb, you can't feel it, the blood on your hands. You look passed your hand to see the back of your guy disappearing across the oval towards the darkness of the trees and then out of sight.

You are alone on in the park in the early hours of the morning with your jeans and jocks around your ankles, wiping the sleeve of your hoodie across your wet stub of a nose. Cum oozes from your cock now shrivelled the size of a footy frank.

The frost on the grass is making your shoes wet. There is a breeze blowing up the backs of your legs. Up the stretched hole in your arse. You almost laugh at that thought, but you don't. You grab the waistband of your jeans and jocks and you pull them up together. None of it is fitting you exactly right, material is sticking to you in odd places and is seemingly caught in other places. You don't care, suddenly all you want to do is to get out of there. You button your trousers and pull your hoodie over your head.

A group of boys yell something from the other side of the oval. You freeze. Still, like a gazelle in the cold hard gaze of the hunter. It's just the usual 4am drunk stuff. They are yelling at the night, not you, you see that. They can't see the semen dribbling out of your arse, cock and the corner of your mouth. What they'd do if they could, hey? You stuff your bloody hands into your pockets and walk quickly to the perimeter of the cleared grass to the safety of the trees. Across the clearing in the opposite direction to the latest intruders. Just in case, you never know. Turn and walk away.

You relax when you are out of the hard gaze of the open night. Your steps quicken though, as the cover of trees brings its own fear. Nobody can see you in the darkness of the shadows. Nobody can see you cry in the dark. The tears and blood and snot, are running down your face hidden in the dark. You wipe your sleeve across your face again. Your nose hurts now at your touch. You hurry to get out of the night. You fart and soil your jocks in your haste.

The elms line the pathway in lines like sentinels. The pathways cross the grass crisscross. The park lights fall in pools intermittently. The more brightly lit street glows in the distance, up ahead, like a mirage, seemingly momentarily out of reach. You quicken your pace to make the unreachable reachable.

The street is deserted except for streetlights standing along the road, the light, golden fluid, sweeping out from each pole like a full skirt. You look right, a delivery truck turns off the main road, you look left, a cat runs across the road and disappears. You head down the street.

"What are you doing out so late, man?" He is suddenly walking next to you, appearing out of nowhere.

You recoil. "Nothing. Heading home." Where the fuck did he come from?"

“Holly shit, look at you, man, look at you. You’re bleeding man, bleeding. What happened to you, man? What happened to you? You’re bleeding. Bleeding.”

You cover your face with your sleeve. “Nothing,” you mumble from behind it. “Nothing happened.”

“Something happened mate, something happened. Nothing didn’t happen. Something happened.”

“Nothing mate?” you say. This guy is sped up on something. You want him to go away. You want to lose him, you contemplate walking fast, you contemplate running.

“Something happened man, something happened, something happened. Clearly something happened…”

“Leave me alone…” Is he going to fuck you over too, you think.

“Why you shitting on me mate, why? I’m just asking the question.”

“I got hit, okay. I got… I got…” Tears come, you don’t want them to, but you well up.

Suddenly, there is something white flashing in your peripheral vision. “Here mate. Here.”

He is offering you a large, white, crisp handkerchief. “No,” you say.

“Take it, mate. Take it, mate. I want you… I want you… I want you to have it.” He hands it to you in a great flourish like ribbon twirling. “You are bleeding man. Take it.”

You take the handkerchief, you don’t really know why. You wipe it across your face. The dry blood crusts on the white material like red dust.

This is turning out to be the weirdest night. When you were sitting watching your TV at midnight and there was nothing on, you wished you’d gone to bed, as your still small voice had told you to do.

“Tell me what happened man? Tell me what happened?”

“Nothing.” You wish he’d stop asking. What do you say?

“Tell me what happened man? Tell me what happened?”

“Nothing!”

“Tell me!”

“Nothing!”

“Tell me!”

“A guy punched me… okay… after he fucked me…” That just slipped out. “Okay. He fucked me and then he hit me."”

“Then he threw you out?” He sounded incredulous.

“No…”

“No?”

“No!” What do you say?

“No? I don’t get it.”

“There was no out.”

“No out?” He pulled a quizzical face.

“We were out. In the park. We fucked in the park.”

He looked surprised. Big eyes, like he is putting it together in his head. “In the park? You guys have sex in the park?”

“Yes.”

“You meet in the park?” He holds his hands in the air as if a question.

“In the park?

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“No strings attached?

“No strings attached.”

He looks at you with big eyes. “You lucky bastard.”

“What?”

“You lucky bastard! I want to have sex...”

“Huh?”

“Not with you.” He hesitates. “Not that there is anything wrong with you, man,” he holds up his hands “you seem, you seem very nice. But I like girls.” He shrugs. “If I liked dudes, I’d have sex with you,” he looks you up and down. “I’m sure, I’m sure it would be great, you’re nice looking and all, except for the…” He circles his face with his finger. “But without that, you and me, no worries.” He laughs. You wonder if he really is propositioning you. “But you need, you know, you need, let’s face it, you need a… a vagina.” He laughs. “I like girls… with vaginas. I wish they’d fuck in the park.”

You laugh. It just comes out.

He laughs nervously.

“Was it some kind of sex game?”

“What?”

“You’re face?” he scrunches up his face. He balls his fist and punches the air.

“No.”

“Do you guys punch each other to get off?”

“No.” You hear your voice sound incredulous.

“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know what you guys do, you know, I’m just asking, you know, just being friendly.

“He was just a fuckwit…”

“I don’t, you know, oh except when I was 12 with Stephen Roth, in his tree house, in Box Hill, but that was just kids stuff and I’m sure that’s not what you guys do.”

“Married guys, they are just like that sometimes,” you say.

“Married guys?”

“Yeah.”

“You and married guys?”

“Yeah, lots of married guys in parks.”

“Holly shit,” he says. “With wives, married guys?”

“Yes.” Fuck it, you think, why not tell him, he seems to want to know. “Once they cum, the guilt kicks in and sometimes they lash out.”

The traffic lights at Alexander Parade turn green your way and the little green man lights up and you and your new best buddy continue walking across the wide road.

“That’s the thing with guys that I’ve always wondered about, you know, two guys, I’ve never known some to ask, but isn’t it messy? Don’t you mess the bed, you know, with all that jizz?”

“If you have been doing it right,” you say. You laugh.

He laughs.

He’s kind of funny, you think. He’s not bad looking either.

“What have you been doing?” you ask.

“Oh, you know, hanging out,” he says. “Smoking pipes with my buddy, in North Fitzroy. Can’t you tell?”

“Yeah, maybe,” you say. “Maybe I can tell.”

I Just Fucked You Bitch

You are fucking him in the bushes mindlessly at 3am blind drunk off your mind. He is spewing in the garden while your dick is still sliding in and out of him. His shit starts to stink. You pull out and wipe his shit off your cock with his undies. His phlegm is sprayed across the grass glistening in the moon light. You have sticky shit skin fingers, you can feel them sticking together, when you stick your cock back in him. His hands are out in front of him on the grass and his wedding ring is gold, occasionally glinting in the dim light. But you just need to plunge into him a few more times and you are cuming in his arse.

You pull him up to his feet and reach around and pull him off, while you kiss him. He has vomit flavoured, sour breath, you can taste it. He has a sticky foreskin with drying spit, but you tell him he was the best fuck you ever had and that your cum is inside his sticky arse, and he blows quickly in your hand, his mouth sucking onto your face as gasps in breath as he blows. His cum lubes up his cock again, and you can pull him harder. His mouth releases. Then sucking back onto your face as he cums again. And each time he cums.  You are holding him around the neck. He cums over and over.

What can you say, this was unexpected for both of you. If you'd known, you'd have expected him to come prepared, still, it didn't slow him down any, now did it, he got it right in there. Fuck it felt good, opening him up like the little bitch that he is. His naked skin feels good in your arms in the moon light. He shakes in your arms. The smell of his shit is in the air.

He looks up at you with those eyes. Sexy and menacing? The eyes of a lover, or a psychopath, you are really not sure. You think they are the reason you liked him. The way he looked at you. With intent, demanding? It was the eyes, it had to be, as he wasn't much of a talker.

The wind blows cold in the dark. Bitter is the wind at 3.30am.

You shiver cold in the night. You start to say something, you don't know what. Words. Just say something.

“You married?” you ask.

“She doesn’t know,” he says. “She’s interstate.”

“Wow,” you say. You don’t know how people get away with that.

“You're a dirty daddy,” he says. You feel his teeth bite your neck. Snap! His teeth bite into your skin, that's what you feel. A sudden sting. You pull away. Surprised. You bring your hand to the side of your face, automatically. Your face is wet, also kind of sticky. It is numb, you can't feel it, is it blood? It is sweat. You look passed your hand to see the back of your guy’s head. You playfully slap him one for the bite.

“Don’t bite me again,” you whisper.

“I was just playin’.”

It’s the two of you in the park in the shadows at the edge of the bush’s in the early hours of the morning. Your jeans and jocks around still around your ankles. You wipe the sleeve of your hoodie across your sweaty face. Cum oozes from your cock now shrivelled the size of a footy frank.

You stop the other guy as he picks up his jocks.

“Leave them there?”

“Why?”

“Trust me.”

He pulls his jeans back on. You pick up his t-shirt and hoodie and throw them at him.

The frost on the grass is making your jeans and your jocks damp and your shoes wet. There is a breeze blowing. You shiver. You grab the waistband of your jeans and jocks and you pull them up together. None of it is fitting you exactly right, the material is sticking to you in odd places and is seemingly caught in other places. You don't care, suddenly all you want to do is to get out of there. You button your fly and pull your hoodie over your head.

The other guy waits, watching you.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

“Evan,” he says. “What’s yours?”

“Jack,” you say.

A group of boy’s yell something from the other side of the oval. You both freeze. Still, like gazelles in the cold hard gaze of the hunter. It's just the usual 4am drunk straight boy stuff. They are yelling at the night, not you guys, you see that. They can't see the semen dribbling out of your knob, and sticking to the cotton of your undies. They can’t see the semen dribbling out of Evans arse. What they'd do if they could, hey? 

You grab Evan’s hand and walk quickly to the perimeter of the cleared grass, leading him to the safety of the trees. Across the clearing in the opposite direction to the latest intruders. Just in case, you never know.

You relax when you are out of the hard gaze of the open night. Your steps quicken though, as the cover of trees brings its own fear. Nobody can see you guys in the darkness of the shadows. You hurry to get out of the night. Evan’s hand feels good in yours.

“Do you have a car?”

“No,” Evan says.

“Bike?”

“No, I used public transport.”

The elms line the pathway in lines like sentinels. The pathways cross the grass crisscross. The park lights fall in pools intermittently. The more brightly lit street glows in the distance, up ahead, like a mirage, seemingly momentarily out of reach. You quicken your pace to make the unreachable reachable. The two of you just fall in sync without discussion.

The street is deserted except for streetlights standing along the road, the light, golden fluid, sweeping out from each pole like a full skirt. You look right, a delivery truck turns off the main road, you look left, a cat runs across the road and disappears. You head down the street.

You might pray to god if you were religious, but you are not, so you don’t. No point making promises to someone else’s mythology, or one someone taught you as a kid in which you no longer believed.

You both climb into your car. The two doors close simultaneously. The light blinks out.

“That was fun,” says Evan.

“How drunk are you?”

“Yeah, pretty drunk,” says Evan.

You drive to your place. There is a park right out the front.

“Come on,” you say.

Evan follows you inside the house. 

“Nice house,” says Evan.

“Thanks.”

“You live here alone.”

“Yes.”

“It’s pretty big for one person.”

“I guess,” you say.

You lead Evan into the bathroom. You start the shower. You get the water right. You pull off your clothes.

You get under the water and soap up quickly.

Evan just stands there watching you, you grab him and pull his hoodie and t-shirt off forcefully.

“Okay. Okay,” says Evan. But he still does nothing.

You lift his feet and pull his shoe off. You lift his other feet and pull his shoe off. You grab the waistband of his jeans and the buttons unpop one by one. 

You lift him up and throw him over your left shoulder. “Oh, wow,” says Evan.

You pull his jeans off with your right hand. “Hey, yes please, I like this,” his voice says somewhere behind you. You grab a handful of his arse and pull his jocks down over the backs of his thighs. His hardening cock pushes into you.

You drop him back down on his feet under the shower water. It floods down over his head. He smiles through the gush of water. 

You think he is handsome.

It felt good to be manhandling him. He is just the right size for you to throw him around. His toned body feels good sliding across your bare skin.

You like the intimate action. He’s slippery, it is sexy.

Evan is hard again.

You spin him around and grab the back of his neck and hold his head under the water. “Oh, yes please,” he gurgles.

You get the shampoo bottle, you squeeze it into your right hand. Evan stands still, compliantly, with the water falling over him.

You massage your soapy hand into his thick hair. Your pushed both hands through his hair. He has great, thick hair. It feels nice, his trust in your hands.

“Oh yes,” Evan says.

You spin him around and kiss him passionately. He kisses back. He smiles at you like he really means it.

You soap his chest, his stomach, his softening cock, balls. “I am loving this,” slurs Evan in your ear. His skin is smooth.

You spin him around and wash his back and his arse. He just naturally stands on his tiptoes and spreads his cheeks.

“You pass the interview, you have the job,” says Evan.

You laugh. You slap his arse.

“And again,” he says.

You switch off the water and push him out of the shower. You throw a towel at him. You think he is adorable.

“Come on, time to dry off,” you say.

You both towel dry yourselves together. “There’s are great towels,” says Evan.

“You have got to have a course towel,” you say. “It is the only way to dry yourself.”

It is getting late. You are feeling tired.

“What now?” asks Evan.

You pick him up and throw him over your shoulder. “Oh god, where have you been all my life,” he says.

You carry him to the bedroom. You toss him on the bed. You roll him onto his side and crawl in behind him, pull the doona over you and wrap him in your arms.

“Okay, sleep," you say.

“Okay,” says Evan.

There is silence, and stillness for the first time for hours.

“I really like you,” says Evan. “I hope this is real.”

“It is real today,” you say. You like him too. You wonder how you can keep him. This wife of his could be a problem, you think. You chuckle to yourself, as you rub your nose gently into his hair smelling him. Chicks don’t usually like it when you screw their husbands, you think.

Blood and Piss and Shit and Cum

PISS and shit and blood and cum

piss and SHIT and blood and cum

piss and shit and BLOOD and cum

piss and shit and blood and CUM

PISS and shit and blood and cum

piss and SHIT and blood and cum

piss and shit and BLOOD and cum

piss and shit and blood and CUM

PISS and shit and blood and cum

piss and SHIT and blood and cum

piss and shit and BLOOD and cum

piss and shit and blood and CUM

PISS and shit and blood and cum

piss and SHIT and blood and cum

piss and shit and BLOOD and cum

piss and shit and blood and CUM

Piss in my mouth

Shit on my face

Bleed into my eyes

Cum on my skin

PISS and shit and blood and cum

piss and SHIT and blood and cum

piss and shit and BLOOD and cum

piss and shit and blood and CUM

PISS and shit and blood and cum

piss and SHIT and blood and cum

piss and shit and BLOOD and cum

piss and shit and blood and CUM

PISS and shit and blood and cum

piss and SHIT and blood and cum

piss and shit and BLOOD and cum

piss and shit and blood and CUM

PISS and shit and blood and cum

piss and SHIT and blood and cum

piss and shit and BLOOD and cum

piss and shit and blood and CUM

I'll drink your piss

Let me taste your shit

Douche me with your blood

Cum inside my arse

PISS and shit and blood and cum

piss and SHIT and blood and cum

piss and shit and BLOOD and cum

piss and shit and blood and CUM

PISS and shit and blood and cum

piss and SHIT and blood and cum

piss and shit and BLOOD and cum

piss and shit and blood and CUM

PISS and shit and blood and cum

piss and SHIT and blood and cum

piss and shit and BLOOD and cum

piss and shit and blood and CUM

PISS and shit and blood and cum

piss and SHIT and blood and cum

piss and shit and BLOOD and cum

piss and shit and blood and CUM

Shit on me

Piss on me

Bleed on me

Cum on me

PISS and shit and blood and cum

piss and SHIT and blood and cum

piss and shit and BLOOD and cum

piss and shit and blood and CUM

PISS and shit and blood and cum

piss and SHIT and blood and cum

piss and shit and BLOOD and cum

piss and shit and blood and CUM

PISS and shit and blood and cum

piss and SHIT and blood and cum

piss and shit and BLOOD and cum

piss and shit and blood and CUM

PISS and shit and blood and cum

piss and SHIT and blood and cum

piss and shit and BLOOD and cum

piss and shit and blood and CUM

eat my shit

drink my piss

lick my blood

swallow my cum

Furious

I was waiting outside the Cash Converters on Smith Street. The sky was clear, it was the middle of the day. I was waiting for my partner who was looking at some sort of computer screen thingy, about which only a computer geek could be interested.

A woman stepped out of the shop and stood next to me, she dialled a number on her phone, with the fake nails she was wearing I didn't know how she managed, but she did. She held the phone to her ear.

She was wearing a pink house suit that had fringing down the backs of the arms, like some gay has-been rodeo rider. Her hair seemed more auburn and more luscious than it really had a right to be, so she may have been wearing a wig, I wasn't sure. She had on far too much makeup for day wear and badly applied, like she’d been rushed – out of a night club 30 years ago and she still hadn’t made it home. As soon as the person on the other end answered, she said,

"Oh, I'll ring you later. I'm furious. Can you ring me later? I can't talk. I'm furious."

I wasn't meaning to listen to what she was saying, but it seemed like such an odd way to answer the phone. I didn't mean to gaze at her either, but my interest was piqued. It started to spit, she reached down into her purple shopping jeep and got an electric blue umbrella from one of the small compartments.

"Oh, I took some of Ronnie's stuff down to Cash Converters. The guy just stood there insinuating they were stolen, or something. I've never been so mad."

She pulled a packet of cigarettes from her shopping jeep, I could see that her hand was shaking.

“I know, it has taken me all this time to get this far… and now this happened.”

She deftly slid a cigarette from the packet of cigarettes with just one hand, that is a learned talent of a long time smoker.

“At first I didn’t say anything, I mean I denied it, but I was so taken aback…”

She slid the cigarette into the corner of her mouth, with her fake nails looking like claws, without it affecting her speech at all.

“I didn’t know what to say, I just wanted to get a few dollars, no fuss and...”

She lit the cigarette, now extended diagonally from her lips, with a still shaking hand.

“I don’t know why?” she said. "But the look he gave me when I said I didn't have any receipts...

She dragged on the cigarette, the end of which glowed brightly red.

She pulled the cigarette from her mouth with her amazing claws. “I’m too furious to speak…”

The smoke came out of her mouth with her words, emulating what I imagine the mouth of a dragon would look like when a dragon spoke.

“Anyway, I just thought I... I... just... I just wanted to tell somebody.”

She pushed 'end' on her phone and the conversation was over. She slipped her phone into her royal blue vinyl hand bag.

She put the cigarette back into her mouth and closed her eyes as she took a long, hard drag, the end of the cigarette burned brightly red.

She pulled the cigarette away from her mouth. She opened her mouth wide, like a whale shark sucking in plankton.

She opened her eyes and caught me looking at her in her peripheral vision.

“You ever been accused of being a thief?” she asked me. It was completely unexpected.

Well, there was that time that I was a suspect in a bank robbery. “No.”

She nodded knowingly. “It hurts.” Her eyes were glassy with tears.

“I can imagine.” That was the best I could come up with, some vague appreciation of what she was saying, it even sounded lame to me.

She dragged on her cigarette again.

“That was all I had left…”

I didn’t know what it was that she had left, she must have seen it in my eyes.

“My dignity, that was all I had left.”

I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

She dragged ferociously on her cigarette. “Yes, well.” She was doing the dragon act again. “Sorry isn’t going to get me any where, now is it.”

“I’m sure it is…” 

She interrupted me again, thankfully, I just knew I was going to say something more lame than the last lame thing I said. “Listen to me," she said. "I’m sorry. It is just hard, you know.”

“I know,” I said. I had no idea what she knew, or was it what I was supposed to know?

“Suddenly you are on your own, unexpectedly.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“And it is nothing like you expected. Nothing. The loneliness.” She dragged again on her cigarette, it was nearly down to a nub. “I’ve never been alone.”

She delved into her plastic handbag again and pulled out some tissues. She dabbed at both her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You don’t mind, do you?”

I smiled at her, as I had no idea what it was that I wasn’t minding and a smile seemed like the best response I could come up with.

“Talking?”

Oh. “No,” I said.

“It helps.” She dropped her cigarette butt onto the footpath, squashing it with the sole of her shoe. “Sitting at home alone.” She smiled wanly and rolled her head from side to side. “I never thought I’d end up here.” She shrugged. “I guess nobody does.” A brief smile flashed across her face. “Do you have someone?”

She reached into her handbag again, this time grabbing the cigarette packet with both her taloned hands.

“Yes, I do.”

She slid another cigarette between her lips.

“Cherish them.”

I laughed. I’m not sure why.

She offered the open packet to me. I hadn’t smoked for twelve months, but I took one, because I hesitated wondering if it was rude not to join her and then I wondered if hesitating was rude in itself, so I just grabbed at the open packet out of nerves.

“It’s too late when they are gone.” She lit the cigarette. “I’m sure that sounds obvious, but it’s not.” She laughed nervously and shook her head from side to side. “You just have no idea.”

I smiled nervously, I could feel it in my face.

“No, it is true.” She leant over and lit my cigarette. “But, I suspect, it is not something you understand until after it has happened.”

“You don’t know what you don’t know?” The cigarette tasted good.

“Huh? Oh. Yes, yes, that’s good.” She smiled reflectively. “You don’t know what you don’t know… until it happens to you. How could you? So true.”

“And life is short…” Apparently, no cliché was going to be beyond me.

“So short.” She shook her head. “So short.”

“I reckon you hit a grease patch at 25 and from there you just slide towards death at an accelerating rate.”

“Oh yes.” She laughed a throaty laugh. “Oh yes.” She laughed a phlegmy laugh. “Oh…” She coughed. “Oh…” She coughed some more. Her eyes swelled up with laughing tears, then with crying tears. Her mascara ran over the top of her cheeks. “I’m sliding,” sob, “ with out bra…” She leant down into her handbag again and produced another handful of tissues. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Oh, look at me, you must think I am peculiar…”

“Not at all,” I said. "I don’t think that at all.”

She reached into her handbag once again and pulled out a huge pair of sunglasses, which she slid on to her face.

"Peculiar," she said as if she was hearing it for the first time. She shrugged. "Maybe I am." She looked at me. "Peculiar."

Square Jaw Boy With Nice Eyes

Square jaw boy with nice eyes
they call him Jai
he likes girls
and he likes guys
he likes to smoke
he likes to get high

The DJ Blew My Mind

The DJ blew my mind, dancing under the flashing lights, floating on the good vibes, with sweat dripping down my back, the crack in my arse, my jocks sticking to me under my shorts. My hair sticking to my brow. My face wet, dripping. But my still my feet move, keep moving, don’t want to stop moving.

Love lives in the music, flying high. Don’t stop, don’t make me stop. Whoo hoo! This is everything I have ever wanted, take m higher. I’m flying.

“Oh Wow! The jizz dribbling down my leg – that may be foreshadowed, with all the pills I’ve taken, later that is what I expect. Whose? What the heck! 

I'm inside my head, the world has disappeared, it is just a blur in the shadows, a concept that we all expect to rediscover, reality with its hangups about stuff it doesn’t understand, and people who are uptight and can’t let go. All that misplace outrage, take a pill, feel the joy for once in your life people.

The beat is fresh, thumping in my heart and my ears, boof, boof, boof, boofing deep down in the depths of my soul. The only way is up.

Oh baby! I love you so.

Boom, boom, boom, boom!

This is love! Back in my room.

Boom, boom, boom, boom!

Love to love you baby. 

Zoom, zoom, zoom.

You’re my girl, you’re my boy.

(at the same time, don’t be coy)

Boom, boom, boom, boom!

Where love lives! It's true.

Voom, Voom, Voom, Voom!

Back to love. Back to you.

The DJ blew my mind, the DJ blew my mind.

"Oh yeah baaaaaaaaa aaaaa aaaaa by!"

Whoosh! WooHoo! Woosh! Woo!

The lights flash, red, yellow and blue. The strobes strobe, and we all pop, go off. The while lights flash on, flash off. Suddenly there it is, then it is suddenly gone. Moisture stuck to the black painted walls, and the black ceiling above, drip, drip, drip, as the steam rises of the bodies on the floor. Sharing sweat. Your feet stick to the carpet, as you try to snog those you desire. Touch, hot, wet, sweat.

Come here baby, get undressed.

Floating in, floating out, floating just above the ground.

Wow! Do you feel that? Wow! Do you see that? Wow! Do you smell the love all around?

Do you want a bump? A line? A pill? A pipe? A sharp? A snort? A spliff? Do you want to shaft it, in front of me?

Up which nostril? In which arm? Do you want a bomb? Do you want to vape? Do you want to swallow? Do you want to sniff? How do you like? Step up, step, step up, anything you like baby, the world is big and wide, where anything is possible, anything you like.

Float away, float away? Enjoy my son, these are the best years of your life. Glamorous lines, sexy pipes, or by pill so efficiently.

Nothing will ever be the same.

Life will never mean as much.

Me, Mark, Tom, Shane, Fergus, Dante, Adriana, Lolli, Dolly, Dean, Perry & Kim, we’d all find a seat in the bleaches and sit. Water bottles at the ready. All chewing madly.

“Isn’t this…”

“I’m having…”

“The music…”

“The lights…”

“The people…”

“I’m going off,” says Dean.

“Who saw that guy in the snake skin shorts? All of us apparently, as all our tongues hang out at the memory.

Perry is talking about himself endlessly and hitting on the twinks that have gravitated into our orbit. Twinks with daddy issues clearly.

Shane's talking at a million miles an hour.

Then a song comes on.

“Oh, I love this,” says Adriana.

“I do too,” says Lolli.

Dean and Dolly chase Adriana and Lolli onto the dance floor.

“Come on, let’s go,” says Shane.

“I’m with you sister,” says Tom.

“Wait for me,” says Dante.

Perry and Kim head to the dance floor, Perry getting distracted by an eighteen year old in lycra shorts most of us wouldn’t squeeze a leg into.

I look at Mark, he looks at Fergus, Fergus looks at me, and we get up collectively, like we are the Borg, and follow the others.

In the middle of the dance floor under the mirror ball is where the action is.

Another club favourite starts. We all have our arms in the air smiling like idiots.

Then another song and another song and another song. Suddenly it is an hour later, two hours later, three hours later, like time just evaporate.

4am. It’s hot under the mirror ball in the middle of the dance floor, we all slowly gravitate to the edge of the dance floor, covered in sweat, our shorts sticking to us in places we are no longer aware of. 

The group comes together.

Fergus and Shane are pulling bags from there pockets. Tom follows suit. So does Mark and I, and Dante, of course. 

Kim finds Perry on the other side of the dance floor with his tongue down a twinks throat and they do more pills.

We all take our 4am top up.

Lolli bangs her tambourine.

We dance around each other, smiling, laughing, shirtless, sweating.

Shane takes my hand and we go walking, Shane talking non-stop all the way. We find Sebastian, he’s been looking for us. He leads us to a corner. “Let’s do Calvin Kleins?” he says.

“Yes,” says Shane.

“What?” I ask.

Within moments each of them is sticking something under each of my nostrils. “Sniff,” they both say.

“What?”

“Sniff,” they both repeat.

I sniff without saying anything else, grabbing my nostrils with my fingers and rubbing them so. 

They’ve both done theirs in seconds and we are heading back to the others.

We all meet up outside for fresh air, sitting about, chewing, twitching, talking animatedly. Our faces glistening, our t-shirts, having pulled them back on, sticking to us. We absentmindedly try to correct them.

Matt has finished his set and he’s found us to do his drugs now the fun part of his night begins.

The last set starts, the change in tempo is observed.

“Let’s go dance.”

“Yeah, I love this.”

“Me too.”

We take our places on the dance floor for the last couple of hours. We glide smoothly to the end.

Lights starts to seep in through the cracks from outside and we knew, if we noticed at all, that our night in heaven is coming to an end.

We all glide in autopilot to the last beat the last note, ta da, ta da. We all stop.

The end. The lights come on. We all clap the DJ for their incredible ride. “The music was greaaaate.”

“The music was great.”

“Best music ever,” we slur.

“Best ever drugs,” I say.

We all start stumbling towards to door, saying we’d all had the “best night of our lives.”

“Ever,” we slur.

“The best!”

The one who are heading in the wrong direction are corrected.

We stumble out into the day, buzzing, still dancing, if only in our minds.

Perry and Kim walk hand in hand.

Fergus picks up a black boy on the way out, very pleased he is with himself too. He says they are going to play train stations.

Shane walks with Sebastian conspiratorially.

Mark takes my hand. 

Adriana and Lolli are heading to Adriana’s sports car.

Dolly, Dean head to Dante’s car.

Tom and Dante scamper off.

We’re all heading back to our place.

“See you there.”

“See you there.”

Fergus hands me a joint for the car ride home.

"Here, ruv." He smiles.

Big Brother Daniel

Hot Shot footy player,

His little brother’s hero,

A ladies’ man of some renown

Handsome as they come

Maria and Angelica

I went for a walk for an hour after work, listening to Tina Turner, BB King and The Stones on my headphones. A little bit of Get Ya Ya Ya's Out. It was cold, but it wasn't as cold as it has been. My breath puffed out in front of me, newly started cars were all puffy out their exhaust pipes. Bike riders whizzed through the traffic in scarves, goggles and riding gloves. Joggers thump thumped along the foot path in sleek black leggings. The walkers wore downy jackets, or black woollen jackets as is the Melbournian way.

On the corner of Elgin Street and Cardigan Streets, Maria sat behind the wheel of her charcoal grey Statesman, at 150 centimetres tall Maria could barely see over the steering wheel, but see over it she could. She looked tiny strapped into the large luxurious car seat. Getting into the passenger side was Angelica, her life long friend, with a multitude of shopping bags. Maria was chatting away as Angelica deposited herself into the car. Maria was directing Angelica as to where she should put her bags.

The street was busy, there was a sea of car’s headlights coming up Elgin Street behind them and heading down Elgin Street towards the eastern suburbs.

Maria had come down Mount Alexander Road in peak hour to pick up her friend of fifty years. Angelica had said Maria was braver than her simply by still driving, let alone venturing out at 6pm to collect her in the traffic. But, Maria had always been brave, ever since she came to this country with Stavros, getting them both jobs in a factory together within days of their arrival. That was the firecracker that was Maria, is Maria. She bought the first of her investment properties before she had her first child, she'd become a landlord by the time she had her last child. Stavros ended up owning the factory, building and all of that first job that Maria had got them.

"You needa your own business, ay! Working for somebody else a only maka dem rich."

They moved to Moona Ponsay and bought up their four sons, Francesco, Alessandro, Andrea and Lorenzo. Frankie, Alex, Andy and Lauri. Only her youngest, Lauri, was still at university studying IT. Frankie was a doctor, married to an Aussie girl, with a son of his own, Luca, Maria and Stavros couldn't have been more pleased. Alex was the traveller, he was always heading off to remote parts of the world. He was currently in the Arctic filming the Northern Lights. Andy liked the boys, but Maria didn't care. 
"Eh, its a new vorld," she'd say. "I don't go to bed vith him, so what difference does it make to me. Ay?" 
Stavros just shrugged and said he loved all his sons, and as long as they are happy that is all he cared about. Andy the gay lawyer. Lauri was at uni and very popular with the girls. What could he say, girls just seem to like handsome Italian boys and he wasn't complaining. He is the cheeky baby of the family with 3 strapping older brothers to influence his wild ways.

“Liiiica!” exclaimed Maria. “Vat have youa boughta.”

"Alla cheepa,” replied Angelica. “Vhat vas I meant to do.”

The two women laughed. "Come on darlink." Maria looked in her mirrors.

"It's a cold," said Angelica. "Brrrrr!"

Maria slipped the car into drive. It rocked forward. She checked her mirrors again.

The cars were coming up Elgin Street in a long line. It was busy at the cross road just behind them.

Maria gunned the Statesmen’s accelerator, it lurched forward, but Maria hesitated and didn’t go. She gunned the accelerator again, but again she didn’t launch, the break in the traffic was only small. The next car at the green lights on the corner switched its blinker on to turn at the intersection, Maria gunned the Statesmen’s accelerator again, this time the large luxury Holden moved out into the traffic, its V8 engine grumbling making a “bub, bub, bub, bub,” sound as it slipped out into the traffic, a slight waft of vapour swirling in the head lights of the next car coming up the street behind the two old girls.

“Ooooo!” said Maria. “Auf vee go,” she exclaimed.

“Leta a goa Maria,” exclaimed Angelica.

Maria pushed the button on the CD player. Carmen started to play.

"Ooooo," cooed Angelica from the passenger seat.

Maria flicked on her blinker and guided the big car around the corner into Swanston Street pushing her foot down on the accelerator and gliding through the night air with the other commuters.

The traffic moved quickly up Swanston Street, it had become such a tiny artery for Melbourne traffic now a days. The large toll ways were taking the major part of the traffic load, more than likely progressing at a snail's pace.

Maria stretched out her foot to push the accelerator down, the big V8 made its wup, wup, wup, wup, wup sound as the car shot forward in the cold night air. She held a steady grip with both her hands on the steering wheel, her short arms stretched out in front of her.

“Hoo-Hoo,” exclaimed Angelica.

“We getta home as quick as a flash,” stated Maria. Her eyes glinted in the reflected light.

The cars in the left lane were slowing down as they approached the big round about at Princess Street, they cruised in behind them.

“Isa a stupeed lights here,” called out Maria. Her stubby fingers raised off the steering wheel, waving at someone unseen who was responsible.

Then the lights at round about turned green. Maria’s sharp eyes and pointed face glanced over her right hand shoulder quickly. She slapped at the blinker stick at the side of the steering column and a small green light began to flash on the dashboard.

“Hang on Angelica!”

Maria pushed her right foot down hard on the accelerator, she made a grunt sound as she did, the gearbox kicked down a gear, the big V8 barked in the night air as Maria guided the car through the traffic at a cracking pace.

“Here ve go!” exclaimed Maria.

“Woo-Hoo!” yelled Angelica.

The big Holden slipped quickly into the right lane and passed all of the slower cars in the left lane with ease.

“Oh Maria!” said Angelica. “Remember the days…”

“Those donkeys on the beach…” said Maria wistfully.

When Maria and Angelica were young girls in Calabria they used to get up early, at Maria’s insistence, and they’d take the donkeys from their grandmother’s sheds and they’d take them down to the Carpo Spartivento beach and they’d race them in the dark by the light of the moon, taking them back to their tiny cupboards before the day broke. Maria’s bravery would encourage the two girls to ride them bareback on the pristine sand.

“Oh my god.” Angelica crossed herself. Maria did too. “Where have the years gone, I aska?” Angelica looked heavenwards.

“Light like this…” Maria waved her hand across the windscreen. "Those mornings on the beach..."

“The salt on our lips…”

“The vind in our hair…”

“When we had hair.” Angelica dipped her head to her shoulder as if she still had long flowing hair.

Maria groaned contentedly. "I dunno..."

“Faster!” said Angelica. “You always wanted to go faster.”

"Faster?" asked Maria.

"Faster!" demanded Angelica.

"Oh." She pulled her shoulders up and closed her eyes for the briefest moment. "Alvays faster." She laughed involuntarily at the joyous thought.

The lights changed to orange at Royal Parade."

"Go for it Maria," Angelica's commanded.

Maria's right foot jammed down on the accelerator. The big car's engine roared as all 32 valves slapped open and they shot forward as if out of a sling shot. The car hit the first waved of asphalt cause by many years of cars heading in the opposing direction, it raised up off its suspension and gave the impression of taking off, just for a minute.

Both Maria and Angelica shrieked with pleasure. "Ahhhhhhhhhh!"
The car shot around the bends on the other side, Maria steering it like a racing car driver. The woman were laughing and hooting as they shot passed the zoo down the hill towards Mount Alexander Road and home.