Sunday Morning

Matt and I went around to Andy and Frankie B’s, late sometime around midnight Sunday. 

Matt and I had been home, we’d messed each other up for hours. We’d had showers, changed our clothes and headed out again.

Recoveries? Kind of.

Andy and Frankie had friends over from Adelaide; another Frankie, Frankie Smith and Ryan and girlfriend Michelle, so we went to help entertain them. Frankie Smith was gay, and Ryan was in a relationship with Michelle. Matt explained it to me before we got there, but I was pretty stoned. Raised eyebrows.

Of course, the speed came out, the joints flowed and the beer was guzzled.

Michelle had passed out on the floor, while Ryan and Frankie Smith were chatting really friendly. A pretty, blond gay boy and a blokey mid thirties straight boy. It’s interesting to see the types mix.

Ryan was cute, I couldn't help but catch his eye. Blue tracky pants, I couldn't help but look. They were kind of tight on him. Good legs, I couldn’t help but notice. We caught each other's eye several times, I wasn’t expecting to, or looking to. He had that kind of smug, I know I'm good looking, sort of thing going on. He was gorgeous.

We flirted for a bit as we all sat around the table chatting, smoking joints and talking, you know kind of side eye, smiles, you know how it goes. 

“I had the best time tonight,” said Matt.

“Me too,” said Frankie B.

“The good old Squeal, hey,” said Matt.

“I had the best dance,” said Andy.

My out-of-it brain cells were kind of confused, kind of boggled, when it came into focus that it was kind of wrong when Ryan went over to see if Michelle wanted to go to bed, and it all kind of clicked into place. I was kind of making flirty eyes with the wrong guy. Ryan's the straight one, of course he is. I knew that, but why had he been making flirty eyes? My reality kind of went zoosh. My head spun. As we chatted and laughed and made jokes, and smoked pot, I kind of forgot it momentarily.

How stoned did I say I was?

But we'd been making eyes at each other, Ryan and I. I looked over at him. Michelle staggered to her feet and stumbled off to bed. Good night. Ryan followed her out of the room.

Frankie Smith had the floor. He visibly morphed into a much gayer bloke, as I listened to him. His speech suddenly had a hint of the gay precision – why is it that most gay boys talk like they went to elocution lessons? Frankie S. was talking about the e he'd taken. Apparently, the Adelaide crew were all on e's.

“It's good. I'm flying,” said Frankie S.

“I’ve got this new dealer, his stuff is always good,” said Andy.

“We can always do more,” said Frankie B. with a sparkle in his eye.

“Now, there’s a surprise,” said Andy.

Ryan came back into the room, he suddenly seemed much more like a footy player; his vocal precision had suddenly reduced to... may be private schooling. He had the heavy eye-lid thing happening, of drugs coming on.

“She's going to have a sleep,” said Ryan. “I feel great.”

“What a quitter,” said Andy.

“I expected more,” said Frankie B.

Ryan lit a cigarette and warmed himself in front of the fire. Andy was questioning him on flying to Europe. Andy and Frankie B. are planning a trip overseas for the winter.

Andy just kept lining up the lines of speed. I'd told him I was really stoned, had forgotten Matt had said we were coming to visit, made apologies about being more stoned than I anticipated.

“This is just a little pep-me-up line,” said Andy. He smiled as he handed me the straw.

The two things that I do the best, snort lines and sleep. When the other's had their heads down, or were in anticipation of the act, I gazed over at Ryan's crotch, as I sniffed. Just kind of did, wasn't planned, just where my eyes landed, so to speak. I was clinging to my nose and sniffing the sour gloop, for all it was worth, my eyes were free to wander, no one was looking at what I was doing. There is something about guys in blue tracky pants, Ryan was no exception.

“Whose interested in doing some acid?” said Andy. “I’ve got some good stuff.”

I looked straight up to Ryan's face, it was flushed and smiling. He held my gaze, intense, rushing. He knew what he was doing, feeling sexy. He liked me looking at his tight track pants. His eyes had the ecstasy droop. He looked away, had a big grin.

“I've never tried it,” said Ryan 

“Well, it is probably time you did,” said to Andy. 

Ryan looked back at me, momentarily. “But I want to.” He looked back at Andy.

What? I thought.

Ryan turned sideways in front of the fire, rotated. He was a sexy boy in profile; the front of his tracky pants bulged out beautifully between his thick thighs. I could see his cock pushing out on the blue cotton. I looked up to his face. He was looking at me, smiling, he looked away.

Frankie B. was talking on the phone, everyone's attention was drawn to him. 

“You what? Tonight? Oh no, that’s no good… come over here and we’ll look after you,” said Frankie B.

I waited until Ryan and my attention connected. I ran my eyes down Ryan's front, resting on his beautiful bulge. Ryan smiled and then looked down at himself, then looked back to the others. Then he snatched a look back at me. He was turned on. He turned 180 degrees and was, pretty much, facing me. Nobody was looking. He slipped his hand into his track pants pocket, grabbed his cock, ran his hand along it, squeezed it and let it go, as if adjusting himself.

Frankie B. has invited someone over, who was so drunk he'd just been asked to leave wherever he had just left.

“I told him to come over here and we’ll look after him,” said Frankie B.

“Okay,” said Andy.

“He’s really pissed,” said Frankie B.

“So, you asked them over here,” said Andy, pointedly. He laughed.

Ryan looked around as Andy spoke. He rubbed his chin and then cast his intense eyes back at me. They were burning.

I'm tired said Matt's eyes, as he nodded his head in the direction of the door.

Yeah, come on babe, let's go, my eyes said back to him.

“I think we’re going to go,” I said.

“Oh, so soon,” slurred Andy.

“So soon?” I said. “It’s 6am.”

“Time flies, ay,” said Frankie B.

Ryan grabbed my hand and gave me, what I'm sure was, a knowing smile. “Fair well, my friend,” said Ryan. “Nice to meet you.”

Yeah, you're a sexy boy too, I thought, as I gripped his warm hand. I let it show on my face. 

“I hope the rest of your stay is just as pleasant, as…” I said. I smiled. He held my gaze, good for him. 

“I hope so too,” he said. His eyes just as intense. He liked playing. The e had diminished his inhibitions, he was feeling sexy. He was comfortable showing it. Gotta love the new generation of straight boys.

We smiled at each other.

Gotta love 40kph speed limits, makes the amphetamine fuelled drive home much more pleasant. We talk calmly, Matt reassuring me the whole way that I'm driving just fine.

We lay in front of the open fire when we got home and listened to Randy Crawford until we fell asleep, my head on Matt's chest. We woke at 9am and took ourselves off to bed.

I feel like shit, if I am to be truthful. It was 9am. Matt had headed to bed first. I was going to join him. I’ve been farting about, not sure what is still working in my system, but something is. I’m just bumping into walls, you know ‘that’ often funny stage, post drugs, coming down, lost in some reality, but before you sleep for real.

But bed was really comfortable once I got there. I, actually, love that sink down into the memory foam mattress, encapsulated safe inside as the light shimmies beyond the curtains.