Published: 16 Oct 2023

Sydney is a new experience for Alun, while Taylor had previously visited when he was a teenager and fresh from country living and his only interest being its beaches. Once in their hotel room it was a quick exploration of facilities, mostly the bar fridge and television channels before deciding on their night’s entertainment.

“More important what should we get up to tonight?” Taylor asks as he tests his king size bed with its mountain of pillows.

“Clubbing sounds like a good idea,” Alun suggests, as the city is known for its many and varied night clubs.

“Seeing we are Logan and Chance we should try a gay club,” Taylor comically implies but there is a spark of gravity in his tone.

“I don’t think so,” Alun quickly discredits.

Taylor releases a cheeky chortle.

“You don’t appear to be joking Taylor.”

“Yes Alun I was but what if I wasn’t?”

Alun ignores Taylor’s response, “I’m going to take a shower and discover what this town has to offer. Have you anything to suggest?”

“Possibly I’ll have an early night.”

“A moment ago you were eager to go clubbing.”

“We could go for a meal and see how things go from then.”

While showering Alun reflects on Taylor’s earlier suggestion. If Taylor wasn’t joking about visiting a gay club, would it be concerning? “Probably not,” he silently predicts while enjoying the water’s warmth on his back and shoulders. He quickly chases away the thought. “What do you suggest for dinner?” he calls to Taylor.

Taylor comes to the doorway, “How about pizza?”

“Na, I’m tired of pizza, I was thinking of Chinese. I noticed a restaurant close by as we approached the hotel.”

“Yes Chinese would be fine.” Taylor remains at the door and appears to be watching Alun as he over lathers the soap.

“Taylor.” Alun curiously says.

“What?”

“You are gawking.”

“Was I – I was thinking about what we could do tomorrow.”

Alun laughs and turns from Taylor’s gaze.

“I could ask what’s got your funny.” Taylor questions.

“I was remembering something you said some time back.”

“I’m listening.”

“You said there was something about you that you were willing to share but not at that moment.”

“I did say that,” Taylor admits while remaining at the door.

Alun washes away the soap and reaches for a towel.

“Are you ready to share now?” Alun’s tone is low and questioning.

“As I said then, not unless you force the issue.”

“And as I replied, I wouldn’t do that.”

Taylor leaves Alun to dress but now a question that was all but forgotten was foremost and would need answering sometime in the future, even if for no other reason than to satisfy curiosity.

The boys had just ordered their meal when Alun is overcome by a strange sensation. Someone across the restaurant appeared to be watching him but after scanning the room there is no one he may know, only people out for an evening’s meal and conversation.

Alun’s discomfort is obvious to Taylor, “what’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

“Something is wrong you appear as if you have seen a spook,” Taylor describes.

“I thought I saw someone watching us but it was only a glimpse and when I turned, there wasn’t anyone.”

“Did you actually see someone, or was it simply a feeling?”

“I would say it was more a feeling, yet in my mind I thought I saw Michael Long.”

“What would Michael Long be doing in Sydney? The last I heard he had an interview with Melbourne’s nine network as a cameraman on their news team.”

“As I said, it was simply a notion, although it was the second time I’ve imagined seeing Michael today. The first was at the airport with him coming of a Melbourne flight,” Alun gives a disregarding laugh; “I think my brain is going soft.”

“I would say having our pics’ on the net is playing on your mind,” Taylor suggests.

“Probably,” Alun agrees, even so he feels uneasy and keeps vigilant for a time but finding no trace of Long or anyone with a similar appearance he forgets the incident.

After leaving the restaurant Alun wasn’t ready to retire, deciding to find further entertainment but Taylor calls it a night.

“Then I’ll see you in the morning,” Alun says as Taylor about turns to retrace his steps back to the hotel. Alun takes a number of steps before turning towards Taylor’s departure. He remains uneasy retaining the belief he saw Michael Long at the restaurant and while looking to assure he wasn’t followed he notices Taylor taking a turn to the right instead of left to the hotel, ‘where is he going?’ Alun thinks but doesn’t expand further on the notion.

After failing to satisfy his need for entertainment Alun creeps into their room without waking Taylor. He had found a club on Pitt Street but the music wasn’t interesting and the Sydney beer not to his taste. He had attempted conversation with a girl, offering to top up her drink but she abruptly declined, then as he ordered a second beer he was approached by a young fellow who commented on his accent but when Alun shared his Melbourne connection, the stranger asked if Alun knew what the best thing that came out of Melbourne. Admitting his ignorance, he was soon put straight, with the stranger suggesting it was the Hume Highway on its way north.

Strong sunlight filtered through the muslin curtains of the tenth floor hotel room. Taylor is quickly onto his feet and has the coffee jug on the boil.

“Hey Alun are you awake?”

Alun growls as he roles away from the glare coming through an uncovered part of the window.

“Rough night eh?”

“Not at all; I only had two beers, no I correct, one and a half, I didn’t finish the second.”

“Where did you go?”

Alun gives a long disinterested sigh as the jug begins to bubble; “just some bar.”

“Which bar?”

“Dunno’ I simply saw a bar and decided it was as good as any. It was in Pitt Street.”

“I don’t know any along Pitt Street,” Taylor confesses.

There wasn’t much choice with the morning’s beverage. The tea is Bushells strong label with the consistency of tar water. The coffee Nescafe and in the infamous words of a long ago song, being, the coffee was bitter and strong like what you get in motels. A full satchel and the spoon would stand without support, half the satchel and it would be weak as dishwater while retaining bitterness.

“Coffee?” Taylor offers.

“If you are making.”

“So you don’t think much of Sydney bars?”

“At least not that one, I do have a question, where did you go after we parted company?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I turned back and saw you going in the opposite direction to the hotel.”

“Were you checking up on me Alun?”

“Not at all, I remained being concerned after thinking I saw Michael Long earlier at the restaurant and was being sure I wasn’t followed.”

“I went to the seven-eleven,” Taylor stirs two teaspoons of sugar into each cup, “if you didn’t like the bar you should have gone to the casino, I believe it has a couple of good bars.”

“If you like we could go tonight,” Alun suggests.

“We could but I believe The Back Seat Boys are in town and playing at the wharf venue.”

“Yes I read about it in what’s-on but you have to book tickets on line.” Alun sips his coffee while Taylor powers up his mobile. Moments later he appears disappointed.

“What’s the prob’?” Alun asks.

“The tickets are sold out.”

“Bad luck.”

“Do you know how they got their name?” Taylor asks.

“Nope.”

“It is to do with having sex on the back seat of their car; they say they got the idea from a Daddy Cool song, love in and old FJ.”

“What is an FJ?”

“Ah yes you didn’t start off in Australia.”

“I was nine when we came out.”

“An FJ was a General Motors-Holden car model from the early to mid fifties.”

“Well there you go.” Alun flippantly responds.

“We could go to the game.”

“What game would that be?”

“Collingwood is playing the Sydney Swans at the SCG.”

“You know what I think of Aussie Rules, I’m a football fan and I find Aussie-rules football is like watching aerial ping-pong.”

“When you say football you mean soccer” Taylor corrects.

“Ours was first.”

“Ours Alun, I thought you were now an Aussie,” Taylor is teasing.

“You know what I mean.”

“There are so many games called football, possibly we should use a word to differentiate each one and drop the title football altogether.”

“Whatever – I suppose it’s to be a night at the casino.”

“Are you into gambling?” Taylor asks.

“I haven’t given it much thought. What about you?”

“I’ve wasted few dollars on the pokies but little more. Mum takes a weekly tattslotto ticket and likes to have a flutter on the horses now and then and never misses the Melbourne Cup.”

Taylor releases a beaming of memory; he is once again at the Georgetown annual picnic race meeting with Jane and she being a little hard of hearing, had him listen in to the men as they placed their bets, then report back the name of the chosen horses. Not knowing much about racehorses or gambling he simply mention any horse running. Poor Jane lost almost fifty dollars on that day and never realized his little ploy.

During the time since taking on the part of Logan, Alun had become addicted to nightlife. In the most he enjoyed sitting on a couple of drinks over an evening, while experiencing the antics of human life, as it drank itself into a stupor with copious amounts of alcohol and little concern for the level of their voices, each attempting to out shout the other. Taylor was more gregarious preferring to be part of it all while showing a high level of confidence and leaving Alun aside to his solitude. Taylor would be through the door advancing confidently to the bar and express with a cheeky grin, howzitgoing’ mate to anyone about. His exuberance often had him challenged but Taylor would ride over it with a cheeky smile and move on.

“Another coffee?” Taylor offers.

“Not for me.”

“So what’s the go for today?” Taylor asks.

“I’ve never been to Sydney before, so as Simon suggested, we should get to know its colonial past. I wouldn’t mind taking the ferry to Parramatta, possibly get a feeling for the Sydney Logan and Chance would have experienced.”

“If they existed,”

“Yes if they existed.”

“I could cope with that, there are ferries hourly up the river to Parramatta or we could take a train,” Taylor agrees.

“The ferry sounds good as I’ve never been on a harbour ferry before.”

“That is something about Melbourne I never understood,” Taylor admits.

“What would that be?”

“With such a large expanse of water such as the bay, why there isn’t any ferry services.”

“I would say it is because most live on the east side and who would want to commute to Geelong or down to Frankston.”

“I guess that’s a fair enough reason.”

Sydney on Port Jackson was a haven that Cook in Seventeen-seventy during his long run up the east coast of the island continent reported being large enough to hold a thousand ships of the line in safety. On this day Cook’s reflection appeared accurate as the harbour held many pleasure craft and ferries, as they dodged the numerous cruise and cargo vessels arriving and departing.

Once under the impressive Harbour Bridge, the Coat-hanger, as often referred to, it was westwards into the Parramatta River, before a slow progress through the inner suburbs and past the home of the Sydney Olympics at Homebush and further to historic Parramatta.

As the boys disembarqued at Parramatta, a young man confidently taps the shoulder of Alun, “hey don’t I know you?” he bravely questions.

“I don’t think so,” the reserve nature of Alun replies.

“Yes you were in a television advert for some supermarket.”

“Not me.” Alun calmly lies.

“Well if not – you could get work as his double,” the stranger says as he moves away but he remains satisfied with Alun’s denial. “Are you sure?” the stranger again questions.

“The last time I looked into the mirror, I wasn’t him.”

The young man departs feeling disappointed and silly from his bold approach upon the privacy of another.

“That wasn’t hospitable of you Alun,” Taylor whispers once the young man was beyond hearing.

“I’m on holiday.”

“In my opinion in our line of business, every bit of exposure we receive is advantageous.”

“I’ll keep that for future reference – where should we start?”

“Macarthur’s Elizabeth farm, as I’ve always wanted to visit it from my school days,” Taylor suggests.

“What is the significance of Elizabeth Farm?”

“Have you heard of Marino sheep?”

“I’ve heard of sheep and I like lamb chops.”

“The Australian Marino was first established from Spanish stock at Elizabeth Farm.”

“You know something Taylor, you are a wealth -; Alun smirks as he pulls his adage.

“You were going to say wealth of knowledge?”

“No I was going to say shit but knowledge will do.”

“Not nice.”

“No really I like it so don’t stop.”

They both laugh as they follow the tourist brochure to find Elizabeth Farm.

All in all it was an interesting time spent walking the streets of Parramatta. Referring to the tourist brochure they visited all the important colonial sites, from old government house to Ruse Experimental farm, only breaking from their educational tour for a ploughman’s lunch at the Ye Olde English pub before returning by the late afternoon’s ferry.

That evening on returning to their hotel, Alun admits their visit to Parramatta had been informative and helped him to further understand Logan and his colonial connections.

“So what’s the go for tonight?” Taylor asks.

“I’d like to go to some seedy bar, have a couple of drinks and watch the antics of the locals.”

“You seem to get a kick out of watching others?”

“I do but don’t for a moment think its voyeurism; it’s more to strengthen my acting ability.”

“Then I know of just the place, good music, foreign beer and dim lighting but there is a catch.”

“Oh yea.”

“It is a melting pot of dope smokers, artists, out of work actors and anyone with an alternate lifestyle.”

“What is your interpretation of an alternate lifestyle?”

“Let’s just say there no restrictions.”

“Where is this bar of yours?”

“Surry Hills, we would need to take a taxi.”

“Dinner first, what would you like,” Alun asks.

“Something hot and spicy and if I recollect correctly there is a curry house not far from the bar I spoke of.”

“You seem to know your way around Sydney.”

“As I said we lived here for some time before going to Melbourne.”

“Weren’t you a little young to hang around bars when you lived here.”

“That would have been true but after mum left Sydney for Melbourne and I turned eighteen I came back and lived here for a few months.”

“What made your mother come to Sydney from Queensland?”

“She was offered work.”

“Why didn’t you stay in Queensland on the ranch?”

“Not ranch Alun, we call them stations.”

“Back in England we catch trains from stations,” Alun teases.

“That also – to answer your question, the isolation was too much for mum. Month after month without a white woman to talk to and trying to cook for a dozen hungry men, with nothing more than salted meat, potatoes and cabbage became too much for her, although for me it was great as I love horses.”

“As I have noticed; would you go back to your so called stations?”

Taylor gives a long sigh, “it’s too late for that. I have lived in the city too long now and have lost my country innocence.”

“I don’t understand what innocence has to do with living in the country?”

“What is meant; while distant from cities and towns you are insulated from the mainstream of entertainment and commercialism and make do with a simpler life, a game of cards, a few drinks with friends, the occasional bush dance, or race meeting, that kinda’ thing.”

“So you couldn’t give up your mobile telephone eh?”

“They do have phones in the outback Alun.”

“I suppose seeing I have always been a city boy then I don’t understand the simple existence you have described.”

Dinner was enjoyed with a couple of beers but not enough to have an adverse effect, although while departing from the restaurant Alun felt a little flushed, believing it was from the curry, or their day in the sun while visiting Parramatta. He ignores his fuzziness and by reaching Taylors bar it has all but cleared.

Taylor’s choice of venue was described as a private club and a short walk from the curry house along a crowded street, then into a narrow dimly light lane. The setting could have been lifted from the pages of true crime and a mugger’s paradise. A short distance along the lane Taylor leads the way down a flight of stairs towards a recess and a closed door, bathed in dim lighting. There is a cover charge for entry with payment made through a small hatch. The door opens into a smoke filled room, that being somewhat rare in these days of anti-smoking bylaws.

It took a little time for eyes to adjust to the dullness and the lingering cigarette smoke, tainted with the obvious odor of pot. Alun knew the aroma, even if he had never partook of drugs except for the occasional over indulgent of alcohol. His eyes are all about as Taylor gets the drinks. There are a number of women but in the most the bar is male orientated without obvious restriction to age. In one dim corner a band is playing jazz, the saddened music dulled by the hum of conversation. The bar’s decor is what could be described as mix-matched, some quite modern, other is brown furnishing from as far back as the forties. The walls are covered with ancient posters of film stars, who in most had passed on, or were no longer known to the present generation.

Taylor returns with the drinks; “so what do you think?”

“About the bar?”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t formed an opining as yet. Have you been here before?”

“No a friend told me about it.”

“I must admit it is different.”

Taylor commences to show doubt towards his selection, “now we are here, I’m not so sure.”

“Don’t worry it will be fine.”

“Are you sure? It’s early and we could go somewhere else.”

“No we are here now,” Alun sips his drink, “besides the beer is good. Where is it from?”

“I believe it is Japanese.”

“I like it.”

A whiff of smoke comes as someone opens the door, Alun gives a smile; “can you smell what I can smell?” he asks.

Taylor gives a soft giggle, “weed, do you ever use it?”

“No, I’ve never wanted to. Peter does on the occasion, he says it helps to make living at home bearable; how about you?”

“I have but it doesn’t, as some say, float my boat.”

“There seems to be more fellers’ than women in here,” Alun assumes.

“I would say that is the alternate crowd I mentioned.”

“So when you say alternate you mean gay.”

“It isn’t known as a gay bar and from what I’ve heard you can rub shoulders with politicians and priests as well as actors and artists.”

Alun begins to laugh.

“Do you want to share?”

“What would Logan and Chance make of this place?” Alun asks.

“I think they would be casual enough to enjoy the company.”

Alun sits quietly for a time as he slowly sips at his beer.

“Are you happy to stay?” Taylor again questions.

“It will do but don’t you dare mention it to anyone.”

“Finish you drink and I’ll get you another.” Taylor goes to the bar as a stranger approaches Alun.

“Are you having a good night?” the stranger asks.

“So far,” Alun bluntly answers.

“What do you think of the music?”

“I’m not into jazz; I guess it is good background.” Alun is becoming annoyed with the intrusion and turns away.

“Have you been here before?” the stranger asks.

Alun doesn’t answer and the stranger lingers, his hands are resting on the back of the second chair as he leans into Alun’s personal space.

‘Aftershave,’ Alun thinks.

‘I know that brand Ricky uses it.’

‘And they both bathe in it.’

Alun turns his head away, hoping by showing disinterest the stranger would move on. From peripheral sight Alun notices the stranger remains interested, Alun glances back towards Taylor who is busy in conversation at the bar.

“I’m Glenn, what’s your name?” the stranger asks.

“Tom Finn,” Alun fabricates.

“So Tom what is a good looking young fellow like you doing drinking alone?”

Alun turns and gazes into the stranger’s eyes, ‘twenty something;’ he assumes, ‘possibly late twenties – but bloody annoying.’

The stranger has short black hair and deep captivating blue eyes. It isn’t the blueness of the eyes set against the blackness of his hair that holds interest but his eye lashes, they frame his eyes with handsome perfection. Also his smile, he has an air of confidence, of success and Alun becomes further annoyed.

“I’m not alone,” Alun answers.

“Then can I buy you and your friend a drink?”

“He is at the bar and already has one. I’m happy enough with the one I have,” Alun adds thank you as not to sound too impolite even if his response appeared a little sarcastic.

From the bar Taylor breaks conversation to see how Alun is coping as he was obvious out of his depth coming to such an establishment. Alun appear to have the situation at hand although he is showing obvious irritation with his interloper. Taylor decides to simply monitor the situation and continue with his conversation.

“Are you sure I can’t buy you a fresh drink?” The stranger insists.

“No thank you.” Alun repeats and once again turns his head in obvious disinterest, believing his negative response would be enough end the encounter.

PLOP;

Alun hears the sound but it doesn’t register, he turns back towards the stranger who has now relocated at the far side of the bar but remained interested in Alun.

Alun finishes his drink as Taylor arrives with a fresh drink, “is everything okay?” Taylor asks.

“Yes why?”

“I thought that fellow was bothering you”

“I can handle him. No I’m fine, simply watching the antics of some of the patrons, as this place would be a psychologist’s paradise.”

“I’ve met a fellow from Queensland who comes from a property near where my mother worked. If it is alright with you I’d like to finish our conversation.”

“Go for it, I’m happy enough simply watching,” Alun assures as he pushes the empty glass aside and sips at its replacement.

Five minutes passed and still Taylor remains in conversation, now Alun needs to piss, he gazed about, discovering the toilets are close to where the stranger is seated. “Here goes,” Alun thinks then passes the stranger on the way to the toilet but this time the stranger doesn’t appear interest in Alun.

Public toilets smell the same the world over and this one was no exception. The urinal was a long stainless steel trough holding a number of cigarette ends and blue antiseptic lozenges which mixed with the pungent smell of urine increased the nasal attack. Alun approaches the trough as a young man towards the far end gives his member a number of shakes before returning it to privacy. The young man smiles without eye contact and departs.

‘More than three shakes is a wank,’ Alun thinks.

He returns the smile but remains silent.

Alun’s flow is strong as it had been building since dinner. As his bladder empties he feels a prickling sensation at his cheeks and across his forehead, ‘it must be the curry,’ he thinks but instead of lessening as it did after leaving the restaurant, the sensation continues then worsens. He senses someone beside him. It is the stranger and he is standing holding his member without urinating.

Alun wishes to speak, to protest but his voice is frozen in his throat.

“What ya’ -,” he manages but no more.

The stranger is close and appears to be grinning; “do you need a little help there Tom?” the stranger asks.

“What-ya’ –,” Alun again questions.

In Alun’s head he is hearing laughter, it is distant and fading.

Alun’s brain appears to be closing down, he fights the sensation but it is stronger than his resolve. He remains on his feet but his eyes see nothing, all his sensations are gathering in his head. He feels tugging at his trousers than at his underwear. There is a further sensation of warmth on private parts. He can feel blood rushing to accept the unwanted approach.

He fights away the involuntary rush of blood but fails.

He remembers no more.

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

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