Tate realises he has become aroused from the sight; he pushes the offending member aside then moves from his hide.

“Ben!” he calls.

Ben turns full frontal towards the call, “you’re back?” his reply carries a measure of surprise.

“Did you believe I wouldn’t return?”

“I was beginning to believe you weren’t and if not by the morning I would have moved on myself.”

“I’m sorry I was about to return yesterday when there was an accident with the road workers, four were killed and another lost his leg.”

“Bad,” Ben says, thinking of the many near misses he encountered while working on the road’s range section;

“I don’t suppose you got any names?”

“Not really, the one who lost his leg was called Jock.”

“Was his name Jock Ferguson?”

“Sorry I only heard the name of Jock.”

“Never mind.”

“I also heard the wallopers remain looking for you, although most think you have gone north towards Cooktown to find a ship.”

“That was my original intention, for now I think it is better to lay low for a while and let the steam go from their enthusiasm.”

“I agree.”

Ben gives a cheeky smile;

Did you get bacon?”

“Sure did.”

“Beer?”

“That as well only two bottles, I couldn’t carry much more; you can have both.”

“I won’t be greedy,” Ben says.

“No you have them; I’m not much of a drinker.”

Tate downs his bag, his arms akimbo while watching Ben.

Ben frowns, “what are you looking at?”

“You.”

“And why?”

“I don’t rightly know.”

“Then instead of standing there gaping, get your gear off and join me; after all that walking you must be in need of cooling.”

Ben cups water in hand and throws it in Tate’s direction.

“I’ll take the supplies inside first.”

Tate had hardly reached the house door when he senses movement behind. Before he can turn he feels Ben’s arms about his body pinning his arms to his side, he senses Ben’s nakedness pressing against his back.

“What?” Tate remains motionless, “don’t or I’ll drop everything.

Ben whispers close to Tate’s ear, “no you won’t.”

Tate gives a nervous laugh.

Ben loosens his hold and speaks his voice appears quizzical;

“I have a question for you?”

Tate places his heavy bag onto the ground and turns to face Ben.

Folding his arms Tate replies; “go on ask away.”

“Tate, do you fancy me?”

Tate pauses for a moment.

“That’s a strange question.”

“Even so it is one that has to be asked.”

“How do you mean?”

Ben is smirking as if his question was as common as any a man would ask of another.

Tate feels a chilled wave as his cheeks flush, he retrieves the groceries as an excuse to hide his emotions, “that is a funny question Ben,” he repeats, “what makes you think I fancy you?”

“I’ve noticed how your eyes follow me, especially when I am naked also you have trouble looking me in the eyes. That tells me something.”

“I’ll put the groceries away. Have you something on the stove?”

“Only some vegies, it was to be my final meal before heading out in the morning.”

“You actually believed I wouldn’t return?”

“I was beginning to believe so.”

Remaining naked Ben follows Tate into the kitchen.

“That reminds me,” Tate says.

“What does?”

Tate nods towards Ben, “you naked, I’ve got you new clothes. Well old clothes but there is still plenty of wear in them. I also got you a pair of boots.”

Tate extracts the set of clothing from his carry-all, “and did I get a strange look from the shopkeeper for buying gear I could never wear.”

“Did he expect anything?”

“Probably but Frank is a gentleman and would never make comment.”

“I’ll try them on.”

“Not at the moment,” Tate distracts.

“And why not?”

“Don’t you want an answer to that question?”

“I did have a question but you appeared evasive. You don’t have to answer.”

“I suppose I must.”

Tate goes to the cooking range and peers into the bubbling pot, “your meal doesn’t appear appetising, maybe a little bacon will give it flavour.”

“Is that your answer Tate?”

Tate takes a deep breath without speaking.

“I’m waiting.”

“It isn’t an easy question to answer Ben.”

Ben is laughing, his soft green eyes merry from Tate’s avoidance.

“One would think any answer would be either yes or no.”

“It would be grand if a brain worked in so simply ways, especially mine.”

“Why?”

“Yes Ben I am attracted to you but I’m not sure on what level that would be.”

Ben collects his new trousers and slips into them, “perfect fit,” he says, “I’ll try the boots.”

“Ben you aren’t making this conversation easy for me.”

“Your conversation lad; in my opinion it still remains either a yes or no, not some convoluted answer that sits between.”

“Convoluted?” Tate is lightly mocking Ben.

“You know what I mean.”

“What if between is where I sit?”

“Do you like girls Tate?”

“Of course I do,” Tate snaps.

“Alright I’ll approach the question from a different direction, do girls give you a rise in the pants?”

Tate is lost for an answer.

True he likes girls but when forced to regress he realised he never fancied them in a sexual way and when he became aroused by the male body he simply pushed the thought aside. Now confronted with Ben’s question he becomes quite frightened by what he is about to disclose.

“You have already admitted your lack of opportunity but the lack of opportunity doesn’t kill desire. Tate what is your desire?”

“My desire at the minute is to somehow back out of this conversation.”

“And that you can but one final question, have you been with a man?”

“Not in the true sense.”

Tate thinks of Wilson although he believed what they did was more relief than what could be considered a lifestyle.

“Final question; I promise,” Ben offers.

“No more questions Ben; I suppose I am avoiding the truth. I have only been with a man in my mind not in the bed. Yes Ben I do fancy you, to what extent I don’t rightly know.”

Ben is laughing.

“Stop it!”

Ben falls to serious, “sorry I wasn’t trying to mock you.”

It is then Tate realises he should reverse Ben’s question, “as I’ve been honest with you Ben, I’ll turn it about.”

“Honest you say?”

“Well half honest.”

“Go on, I’m listening.”

“Do you fancy me?”

Ben answers with a single word, “yes,” although his expression lacks any support to his admittance.

Tate is shocked, “Oh,”

“Are you happy now?”

“I don’t know how I should reply.”

“Let us both put it aside for the present and think on it.”

Two days pass in stilted harmony with the most of their conversation relating to Tate’s visit to the village of Koah and the accident with the steam shovel, as Ben had been acquainted with some of the western road gangers. The one activity absent from their daily routine being their naked dip in the river although during the first night after his return Tate did hear splashing, suggesting Ben took to private bathing.

It wasn’t until the third day before it became obvious their avoidance would need to end and during the afternoon while Tate was fishing for their dinner Ben approached.

“Catch anything?” Ben asks.

“Not yet.”

“We are almost out of bacon,” Ben suggests.

“True.”

“I did read it you know.”

Tate pulls in his line only to find the bait had been taken.

“What did you read Ben?’

“The newsprint wrapped about the bacon that you hid away.”

Tate rebaits and casts.

“It wasn’t hidden.”

“So they remain looking for me.”

Tate has a nibble, he jerks the line and it is caught, “dinner at last,” he laughs. Disregarding Ben’s concern he despatches life with a thud to the fish’s head with a stick.

He is watching Ben as he recasts the line.

Ben admires the fish, “nice size,”

“What are the boots like?” Tate asks.

“They are a good fit but what brought my boots to the conversation?”

“You mentioning size and you hadn’t commented on them before.”

“Sorry I should have thanked you.”

A second catch and as Tate brings the fish to the bank continues, “I wasn’t looking for gratitude – just wondered as you have big feet.”

Tate collects both fish being satisfied two would suffice.

“I suppose we should do something about gutting the fish and get the meal on.”

“I’ll do it if you like.”

Tate offers up the fish.

“Another thing why don’t you sleep in the house, it would be more comfortable and the weather is on the turn.”

“What about the snakes?”

“I’ve already suggested you are more likely to find snakes down by the river, than in the house.”

Ben gives a shudder with the thought, “besides there is only one bed.”

“You have the bed, I’ll bunk down on the living room floor,” Tate offers – or,” Tate is grinning.

“Or?”

“Or we could share the bed.”

“Have you thought further on our conversation?” Ben asks.

“I have.”

They enter into the kitchen and Ben places the fish down on a slab table; he finds a sharp knife and commences to fillet a fish, “what have you decided?” he asks as he slices into a fish.

“You don’t do it like that! Give me the knife.”

Ben stands back as Tate takes over the gutting;

“I have decided I should stop running away from the truth.”

In no time the first fish is gutted and filleted.

“That’s how you do it.”

“What truth would that be Tate?”

“Who and what I am.”

“Then who are you?”

Ben is now the one who is fishing as he wishes to hear the words from his friend and not simple guarded insinuations.

Tate can’t put his admission into words as a large blockage remains that is so high he can’t climb it or see past it.

“Possibly if you can’t use words, why not answer with action?” Ben suggests.

“Do you really mean that?”

“Try me.”

“What here and now?”

“It is as good a time as any, so why not.”

Gary’s stories are about life for gay men in Australia’s past and present. Your emails to him are the only payment he receives. Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Conder 333 at Hotmail dot Com

6,840 views