Published: 19 Dec 2019

“You know mate, I’m not happy with you,” Lewis barked at Trevor as they stocked the shelves in the vegetable section.

“Didn’t you fancy Jody, she fancies you,” Trevor offered in defence.

“She doesn’t know me,” Lewis declared angrily.

“She’s seen you about and it was Jody who asked to be introduced to you,” Trevor smiled and held out his hand, “forgive me?”

“Suppose so but I don’t want to,” Lewis answered but refused the offered hand.

“Hey why don’t you fuck her anyway? If she wasn’t my cousin I would,” Trevor made light, “come to think of it, if she fancied me I would anyway, even being my cousin, besides she is only a second cousin and often people marry second cousins.”

“You would fuck anything,” Lewis growled.

“Except you,” Trevor admitted and moved away to a pile of potato sacks then taking the top sack, cut the string and emptied the contents into a large container. They rumbled out followed by a cloud of fine red Tableland dust that made them both cough, “maybe even you if I were hard up for it but I would have to be pretty hard up and very drunk,” he added through the coughing, while holding two large dirty potatoes to his crotch as if they were a fine set of balls, “what do you reckon?”

“In your dreams,” Lewis snarled in disgust. Trevor’s continuous smut was becoming somewhat tedious, as it was almost the extent of his conversation, making sexual innuendo with most every topic of discussion. He could turn religion into sexual debauchery at a whim, or a Country Woman’s Association tea party into a lesbian orgy, without displaying the smallest spark of empathy.

It wasn’t long before Lewis once again encountered Jody but this time in more favourable surroundings. He was at the news agency and it was Lewis who approached Jody from behind scaring her into a gasp.

“What are you reading?” he asked while deepening his tone, his face crossing Jody’s shoulder sounding close to her ear.

“Shit Lewis you scared the hell out of me,” she complained, dropping the woman’s-weekly back to the pile of magazines on the shelf below. Jody retrieved the magazine and recovered the page on how to find the perfect man.

“What are you up to?” Lewis asked confidently.

“Reading – what’s it look like?” she answered, once again burying her face in the magazine’s pages.

“I thought you had the perfect man.” Lewis asked.

“Kevin is perfect but a girl can’t help hoping she can make him more so.”

“Do you believe all that rot?” Lewis asked. Jody continued reading. Closing the magazine, she spoke.

“Hey Lewis, my parents are still away.”

“So?” Lewis answered quizzically.

“So what are you doing tonight?”

“If nothing you are persistent my girl,” he said and paused, “as a matter of chance I have the night free and tomorrow night and the next.”

Lewis had thought long on their meeting at the Dunlop concluding Trevor had a point. Jody wasn’t bad looking and as his relationship with Sarah didn’t seem to be heading anywhere, then why shouldn’t he dip his wick in another well, or to point some well – any well.

“What about your boyfriend?” Lewis asked.

“What about your girlfriend?” Jody answered.

“She wouldn’t know I guess.”

“There lies your answer.”

“You have a point.”

“How about it, do you want to come around for a drink and a chat?” she brazenly suggested. Lewis led her on with pretence to be considering.

“A chat?” he asked at length.

“And a drink,” she answered.

“A chat and a drink,” Lewis agreed, reiterating a chat and a drink, declaring he would be there around seven thirty then left with a stiffening member.

It was instantaneous, as soon as concord had been established with assumption beyond chatting over a drink, the blood left his thinking and congregated in his crotch, now his tight jeans became a public spectacle and he found it necessary to take advantage of the wooden bench in front of the chemist to wait out subsidence. Alas subsidence was lacking but the situation was overcome by pulling out his shirt and tailing it over his embarrassment.

All through the afternoon his erection persisted. It would wane then finally with a visual point for penetration and a mental picture of his member entering the moist warm existence of Jody, it would return and the salute would regain its strength, finding necessity in changing trousers, to a pair he hardly wore. They were baggy and out of fashion but did have enough room in the crotch to accommodate expansion.

Being redundant to fashion he didn’t wish wearing them to his night’s encounter, so after changing back into his favourite pair he viewed their fit in the long mirror in his mother’s room. ‘Not bad,’ he thought as he eyed his arse, then with the thought of Jody’s offer, once again came the rise and alas even a blind nun could perceive his pride. So it would be back to leaving his shirt to overhang his guilt, which went uncomfortably against his fashion.

The door opened and a surprised Jody invited Lewis in. “I didn’t think you would turn up,” she admitted showing the timid but eager lad into her web.

“Why not?” he asked, following Jody towards the living room. “Where are the olds?”

“In Cairns, my grandmother isn’t well.”

“When will they be back?”

“Not tonight, want a beer?”

“Is the Pope Catholic?”

“New shirt?” Jody asked, casting her eyes from collar to tail, Lewis felt her eyes prying beneath the thin fabric.

“Had it a while – nice house.”

“Do you think so?”

A nervous titter – “had to say something.”

“So you complemented the house and not the host.”

“And the furniture but the host is fine as well.” Lewis gave a smile and dropped into the large floral sofa. He was gaining boldness.

“Only fine?” Jody criticized.

“That will do for a start.”

“How was work?” Jody asked and presented a beer.

“It’s always interesting while Trevor’s around.”

“Umm if he wasn’t related, well I guess we don’t choose our relations do we.”

“Do you have a glass; beer tastes better from a glass.”

“Would you like it served on a silver tray as well?” Jody acknowledged the request, returning with a long pilsner glass. “Have you eaten?” she asked.

“I have.”

“How is Winnie?”

“Do you know my mother?” Lewis asked surprisingly while standing and crossing the floor to admire some trinkets on a side table.

“I do, a nice lady – can’t say the same for her son,” Jody was teasing.

“Steady girl,” Lewis answered and collected a small blue and white vase from the table top.

“Wedgwood,” Jody explained.

“I know what it is.”

“So you’re an expert on Wedgwood as well?” Lewis replaced the vase and returned to his seat. As he passed Jody reached for his crotch, obviously Lewis’ excited state hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Why waste time.” Jody softly said, sending a tingling sensation throughout his body as she led him towards her bedroom and closed the door.

Flashbacks; is what they are deemed to be and are often the result from the overuse of recreational drugs. Some say sex is a drug and once taken one wants more and more. Jody was now deep within Lewis’ memory and flashes of that evening were epic.

Lewis hadn’t developed feelings towards Jody or longing for her company, only the relief he had obtained from penetration and her technique that drained him of every drop contained within his sack. Twice that night Jody had mounted him and dictated affairs. Lewis had become the passive partner, reclining on her bed as would a female and was devoured but unlike the male black-widow spider he had escaped with his life. Would there be a return performance? Lewis had canvassed so but all Jody would acknowledge was possibly and if so at her command. She would let him know.

Eventually the planned weekend with Sarah in Cairns arrived dragging Lewis from pretence to pretence. He tried to be the loving boyfriend while she appeared to be unaware of his clumsy attempt to be and had not yet learned to read the language of his correspondence, as he avoided any words that may display devotion or future intent.

Employing Jody’s direct approach Lewis attempted to have his way with Sarah but she seemed indifferent. Missing was her girly crush while she spoke much about her future, a future that if Lewis had chanced to listen, was one that didn’t appear to include him.

Sarah had been accepted to attend her course and would have to live in Cairns where she would board with relations. Relations who she stipulated did not lend to their charge conversing with the opposite sex, giving Lewis the impression Sarah was joining a nunnery and he said so which didn’t go well with Sarah, turning her to the quiet side.

If Lewis chanced to listen to Sarah he would have heard the frequent addition of an erroneous name to the conversation and one that was mentioned with some fondness, it was Mark said this and Mark wishes that with references to his wit and compassion, yet Lewis suspected nothing as he built towards ending their relationship on his terms.

With Sunday morning it was time for Lewis to return home and obviously without putting his planned approach into action. He had been too cowardly to verbally break their relationship and as was his original intent, would need to do so by mail.

The rail motor had not yet reached the platform when Lewis and Sarah arrived at the station, leaving them some time to create small talk. As they sat on the platform bench Lewis reached out in an attempt to pull Sarah closer but Sara became rigid, keeping her distance. It was then she announced her woes.

“Lewis I have something to tell you,” she announced coldly without facing him. Lewis didn’t reply but took on the persona of one prepared to listen and accept bad news.

“I don’t wish to go out with you any more,” Sarah said her voice chilled and clipped, while her gaze was directed to the rails leading south from the Cairns station and eventually towards home and Townsville. Her intentions were on that exit and speeding away from Lewis’ feeble advances.

“Why?” Lewis pleaded his voice shaking and confused. He knew he didn’t love Sarah and it was his intention to end the relationship but part of him still wished to one day marry her, or at least hold onto the thin cord of convention he had developed, love didn’t come into the equation.

Many married couples he had encountered gave such an illusion, so why would his marriage be any different. His own parent’s marriage had failed and most of his peers from the hostel were from broken homes, moreover he didn’t understand love and the only person he felt he had loved in any degree was Ian, and that was, as he believed, the love of mateship.

“You don’t love me,” Sarah answered as tears welled in her eyes, “besides there is someone else,” she affixed as the tears dried. Sarah had met the son of a wealthy sugarcane farmer and had fallen for his charm.

“But;” was the only word Lewis uttered under the racket of the motor’s horn as it reached the platform.

“No Lewis it is over,” Sarah cut across the sound of the motor and without further left Lewis to his departure.

From his seat Lewis remained watching Sarah as she slowly walked away without once glancing back. Her head high without regret for the words she had uttered, without concern for his feelings and eager to commence a new adventure without him. He remained watching long after Sarah had gone from his sight. Then shaking his head he realised that she had beaten him, and with more drama than he could have mustered. Only a female could use such theatre.

Lewis’ preference was to mount her over the weekend, then end it all by mail the following week. A dear Sarah letter with much apology, stating it was he who was to blame and not her, while hoping she would have a long and happy life with someone else, even suggesting they could still remain friends.

It was Kuranda and the sight of the Barron falls that brought him back to the real world, one that had no Sarah and he didn’t care. A weight now lifted from him and a new life with Mareeba as a steppingstone to his bright future. He would save his money and return to Melbourne but for now he would chase the feel of a moist pussy in the guise of Jody until it ran its course, then he would follow the chase of Trevor and fuck the town but all this didn’t sit well as Ian remained his stumbling and Ian his thought whenever he gave the night’s relief to frustration.

Almost as instantly as the thought of fucking the town formed, despair evaporated it, with the realisation that he had not the courage or aptitude to do so, leaving him to spiral away from such a sublime future.

“Lewis Smith!” A deep voice came from behind bringing him back from the brink of sexual desolation. He quickly turned to realise the form of Billy McKee, dressed from head to foot in his Army gear and looking extremely handsome. At first Lewis didn’t recognise Billy. He seemed taller and more masculine and if possible more built, while his blue eyes still had sparkle but they also had dull sadness about them, a sadness that one would perceive in those of a broken horse.

McKee had boarded the train to the rear as it was about to depart Cairns, so he had missed Lewis’ dilemma with Sarah, nor had he noticed Lewis on the train until they had reached Kuranda.

“I thought it was you Lewis.” Said Billy, using Lewis’ first name, which was to McKee most unusual. Lewis instantly picked up on the fact as he did Billy’s more gentle approach.

“How’s the Army treating you?” Lewis asked as Billy sat in the opposing seat, his legs wide and slightly touching Lewis at the shoe. His army trousers captivating and leading Lewis upwards from heavy boots to well polished buckle and memory to what was beneath. Lewis felt his pulse quicken and pulled away from the sight.

“The uniform suits you,” Lewis acknowledged.

“It won’t for long.”

“Why?”

“Haven’t you heard I have been dismissed,” he answered with a degree of reservation as he sat watching the scenery pass by the train window, changing from wet tropical highlands, to the dryer grasslands that lead down the opposing side towards Mareeba and its savannah feature.

There was a long pause before McKee came back from beyond the window, “so Lewis Smith what have you been up to?”

“I lost my car in the cyclone,” Lewis answered and waited for Billy’s usual rain of sarcasm, it didn’t eventuate; instead Billy seemed interested in his misfortune and listened while Lewis again progressed through the entire event.

Throughout his oration on the cyclone and the tragic loss of transport, Lewis wished to ask McKee what had brought on his dismissal but refrained not to excite Billy’s displeasure, as he had done so many times in the past. Instead Billy remained listening with interest, going as far as asking question and displaying empathic expression.

“Will you be going back to your job at the Royal?” Lewis asked as they passed the Mareeba meat works and sale yards, while the pungent stench of manure mixed with urine and the contents of disembowelled carcases filled the carriage.

“I have been told I have the job but I think I’ll have a holiday first,” Billy answered, “also I don’t think my Cousin Brian will be too excited about my return.”

“He hasn’t said anything,” Lewis answered not wishing to divulge the degree of venom Brian had been injecting since Billy’s departure.

“Actually he doesn’t know I’m returning, they think it’s not until next month.” There was a measure of malice in McKee’s tone and a faint smile of satisfaction as he spoke of his cousin. “Is that cute barmaid still at the Royal?” Billy asked at length.

“The one with the black hair and green eyes?” suggested Lewis.

“That’s her Irish isn’t she.”

“No she has gone and there’s a new girl with even bigger tits,” Lewis shared with a laugh, “I dare say you will be in there eh?”

“Maybe.”

The rail motor crossed Stony Creek Bridge and was soon at the Mareeba station. Both alighted from the train and as Billy shouldered his kit Lewis spoke. “Hang on a sec, I’ll walk with you but I must piss first,” Lewis threw his backpack onto the bench beside the station toilets and entered.

Standing at the long concrete trough, Lewis unzipped and released a steady stream. He had meant to find relief while on the train but became so engrossed in conversation with McKee, completely forgot until necessity took control. Moments later he felt the presence and on glancing sideward discovered it to be Billy, who likewise had unbuttoned his army greens and was releasing an equal flow. Lewis’ eyes were involuntary drawn down to Billy’s dick. It appeared even larger then he had recollected from the encounter at Atherton.

As he covertly watched Billy’s strong and steady stream from the corner of his eye, he though he saw Billy watching back but this could not be so, Billy would never be interested in another man’s appendage and especially that which belonged to Lewis.

“Want to go out for a drink some time Lewis,” Billy suggested shaking the last drops free. His words directed to the concrete splash back of the urinal, leaving Lewis to wonder if Billy meant what he said, or was once again amusing with him.

“Sure,” Lewis agreed as Billy buttoned his pants departed, leaving Lewis pondering over what he had just experienced.

“See ya’ then,” Billy sent back from the toilet door and was gone.

“I took your advice.” Lewis told Ashley over a beer. To Ashley the lad seemed more relaxed and contented, even as far as glowing with youth’s life force.

“And what advice would that be Herbie?” Ashley asked.

“I finished it with Sarah,” Lewis answered then paused, “well to be accurate, she broke it off with me but I was just about to do so anyway.”

As Lewis spoke Ashley gave an all knowing smile but was cut short before he could speak, “that doesn’t mean I am a poof, I like girls.” Lewis defended.

“So you keep telling me.”

“Have you heard Billy McKee is back in town?” Lewis informed, cautiously omitting the company they shared on the Cairns train.

“No, what about his national service?” Ashley asked.

“It is said he was dismissed.”

Lewis’ mind filled with images of splashing urine and Billy’s unsheathed member and the fact that McKee wanted to go out for a drink with him. Then his memory returned to the many threats and insults he had endured bringing him back to the present conversation.

“Possibly the army was wake to him?” Ashley gave up what appeared to be a shudder.

“From his words you are not that far from the truth. I was talking with him of the train back from Cairns and he suggested we go for a beer.”

“As long as he keeps away from me,” the humour dissipated from Ashley becoming most obvious he did not wish to further discuss Billy or his return.

“Hey John what is it with you and McKee?” Lewis asked ignoring Ashley’s negative attitude.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Lewis was still not convinced McKee was serious in having a quiet drink with him, believing it to be just one more display of his cruel attitude but if he again offered he believed he would oblige, even if out of nothing but curiosity.

Once McKee was no longer conversation Ashley’s outrageous disposition returned, offering his services to Lewis, who politely declined but did accept another beer. Although Lewis had declined Ashley’s advances part of him wanted to accept, he could always cup his hands behind his head, close his eyes and think of something else. He hadn’t had sex since his visit to Jody, not even hand relief, while his aspirations of ploughing into Sarah on the previous weekend had soon deflated with her giving him the push.

Lewis’ thoughts returned to Jody and how she had manipulated him into sex and how he enjoyed being dominated. Then the vision of Billy beside him at the station urinal filled that space.

A fourth beer only increased the strength of Billy’s image and his need for relief, while Ashley’s hand on his leg only increased the urge. So with his hands behind his head, a belly full of beer, a head full of alcoholic fuzz and his jeans around his knees, Lewis closed his eyes and allowed Ashley to service his frustration as he thought of McKee standing at the urinal and naked in the hallway in Atherton while declaring to Ashley it was Jody that drove him on. Seconds later it was over and they were back in conversation as if nothing had happened.

“Herbie do you like this Jody?” Ashley asked and offered Lewis anther beer. He accepted while thinking he shouldn’t. He wasn’t a seasoned drinker and four in a short afternoon was launching him into orbit, loosening his tongue to the extent that he proudly gave rendition of the night he had shared with Jody, until Ashley declared he had more than enough girl-talk to take him through until Christmas.

“Is Jody the new girl in your life?”

“Na she’s just a good root.”

“Seems as if you were the root Lewis,” Ashley jested, leaving Lewis to ponder on the suggestion.

“I suppose you’re right in a way but it was fun and I’ll be back for more this weekend.”

There was a crash on the metal roof bringing both to sharply glance upwards, followed by a rolling sound towards the guttering.

“What was that?” Lewis gasped.

“Kids, more to the point teenagers, they find it funny to throw stones on everyone’s roof as they pass.”

“Have you said anything to them?”

“Not likely to, Jim Forbes from thirty-six did and the next came through his window.” Ashley repeated teenagers and looked accusingly at Lewis.

“I’m almost twenty.” Lewis protested. Not wishing to wear Ashley’s reproachful label.

“At nineteen you are still a teenager.” Ashley corrected. “What you said is similar in being slightly dead.”

“Anyway it isn’t much good going to the police,” Lewis perceived.

“Why’s that Herbie?”

“They are more interested in arresting aborigines and harassing under aged drinkers.”

“I know Pete Temple, he’s not a bad bloke; I’ll have a quiet word with him.”

Lewis became quite serious. “I was almost a teenager once. It was during the year I spent in Atherton before going to Melbourne.

“What does that mean?” Ashley asked followed by an ounce of regret as Lewis’ renditions of life, love and cyclones had the ability to run far longer that the intelligent mind could apprehend.

“It means I had the chance to be wild and free and do all the dumb things teenagers do but when the time came, it was too late and I was living in a town I didn’t like and to be honest didn’t like me.”

“At, as you say, almost twenty now, it couldn’t be all that long ago.”

“True, I left Atherton the week after my eighteenth birthday and went to Melbourne, promising all I would not be coming back. Somewhere in between my time at the hostel and returning from Melbourne I lost my teenage years.”

“But you did come back.”

“Again true, possibly I don’t fit in anywhere, obviously I’m not one hundred straight and don’t feel I am – well you know. I guess the hostel kept me as a kid too long and the real world wasn’t ready for me, or I for it.”

“You seem to fit in alright, maybe a little naive on some accounts but in general you’re quite sagacious; at least you don’t heave stones on folk’s rooves.”

“Sagacious?”

“Yes level-headed.”

“I get by and as for what I said, I’m still not a poof.”

“Possibly Lewis you are,” Ashley released a grin, “a little by-sexual.”

“Not even that.”

It was dark when Lewis finally staggered out of Ashley’s front gate and headed for home and although his frustration had been serviced by Ashley, it was once again rising, even through his haze of alcohol.

Instead of turning right at the Graham Hotel he headed for Jody’s house. Now his inhibitions had diluted to cheeky and as he knocked on her door he gave a war hoop of anticipation which soon dispelled as Jody opened the door.

“Lewis what are you doing here?” Jody demanded without reservation.

“Thought you would like to…..ah well you know,” he commenced to giggle while attempting to hold upright.

“Know what Lewis?”

“Maybe go out for a drink or something.” Lewis said dissolving his anticipations.

“By the look of it you have had more than enough already.”

“I reckon I could go another.”

“Another what, Lewis?”

“Another – whatever is being offered,” he cheekily answered.

“My parents are back.”

“How about a drink anyway?”

“As I said, I think you have had enough already.” Jody growled.

“Well how about another time?”

“No Lewis you were a lousy fuck, – go home to bed and sleep it off.” Jody concluded as she sharply closed the door.

It is funny how rejection can deflate one’s sexual ego quicker than a pin to a balloon and Lewis was now totally deflated and facing life without female company of any degree. His entire sexual future had been placed on Jody, now with her rejection he was out on that well known limb, with someone sawing at the branch and he one the wrong side of the cut. As he walked home the handsaw on the branch became a chainsaw and echoed loudly in his ears as he lowered into dejection.

At the Civic theatre he paused with intentions to purchase a ticket but could not convince interest in the night’s programme. It was a serious film lacking action, a love story with a bitter end and was almost enough to tip one over the edge into the abyss of despair. Not even the latest Phantom comic at the news agency could reduce his gloom but he purchased it anyway and folded in into his back pocket.

“Hey Smith what ya doing?” the voice bellowed from a batted ford utility, which nosily came to a pause a few yards ahead of where he was walking. The vehicle echoed a throaty exhaust with the sound bouncing of the shop fronts, while the passenger a golden headed youth with features much too rugged for his years, hung out the missing window while displaying a perfect set of ramped fingers in Lewis’ direction.

“Hey Jim, I’m pissed,” Lewis shouted back.

“So am I,” answered the rugged youth, smiling and showing two missing teeth, “hey wanna’ go for a drive?”

“Who’s that with ya’?” Lewis asked peering into the dark cabin of the utility.

“It’s you Bolton; I thought I recognised your ugly face!” Then without thinking Lewis agreed and bounded onto the bench seat between the two, finding the gear stick spiking between his legs and as the driver threw the car into action he accidentally took a hand full of Lewis’ tackle. The driver growled and told Lewis to move or it would be more than the car that was put into gear.

Lewis pushed back into the seat away from the shift, knocking over a half bottle of black label whisky resting against the floor hump. Jim quickly righted the bottle and took a deep swig from its contents, “ahhh good stuff that,” he declared offering the bottle to Lewis, who also downed a fair mouth full, feeling it burn its way to his stomach and gurgle as it mixed with the beer.

“So you know Frank?” Jim introduced.

“Sure he was in my class that term I was at Mareeba State,” Lewis laughed, while again feeling the effects of the earlier alcohol kick back then with the infectious attitude of his companions, the depress state that had shadowed him since Jody’s rejection lifted.

Although it had been some time since he attended school in Mareeba, he would occasionally run into some of his class mates while on holidays from Herberton, this was one of those occasions and intoxication was clouding his judgement, as if sober, he would refuse any association with the pair. They were known as the town’s problems and if there were trouble it would be Frank Bolton and Jim Stanley directly in the line of police fire.

“Who owns the car?” Lewis asked as it roared into action and loudly backfired, leaving behind a blue-black cloud of smoke.

“Dunno’,” laughed Frank Bolton.

“We found it at the tip,” Stanley admitted and took another swig of whisky.

“Stolen?” suggested Lewis

“Na not stolen dumped and still working, even had half a tank of petrol but none of the gages work and the back tiers are through to the wire.” Frank declared, then sped across the railway tracks towards the show grounds, “lets go and razz up the blacks,” he added on passing the show grounds and approaching the single row of pensioners houses being occupied by the more westernised of the local aborigines.

Frank planted his foot to the floor as he passed the first house and old Mr. Gordon, with his bung eye, who as usual was reclining in a weather beaten couch on the front veranda.

With the approach the old man became animated bringing him to a shaky stand to lean against the broken verandah rail.

“Ya fucken’ lota’ louts!” he shouted over the noise of the exhaustless car but was not heard by its crew. Then taking the vehicle up to its limit of forty miles an hour Frank hit the breaks and spun in a cloud of red dust. It didn’t stop.

“Fuck the brakes are shot as well!” Bolton shouted over the roar of the dying motor, laughing loudly as it stalled and the vehicle slid into a roadside post, snapping it at the ground while continuing towards another. Fortunately it had lost enough momentum with his application and connection with the post to create a gentle glide and except for a wrecked bumper, buckled bonnet and a busted radiator, the passengers were shaken but fine. As steam hissed from the front of the car, followed by a liberal plume of smoke, as a siren came to greet them from behind.

“Fuck!” Jim shouted over the hiss of steam, while throwing the Scotch bottle into the cavity behind his seat and cringing at the sound of the contents leaking onto the floor, causing the cabin to further reek of alcohol. Moments later Sergeant Morris Donald appeared at the driver’s window, flashing his torch into the face of Frank Bolton, then onto that of Jim and Lewis then back to Frank.

Donald had only recently been promoted to sergeant and as a constable knew well the town and its problems.

“I thought it was you Bolton,” he declared as the beam of light crossed the cabin back to the face of Jim Stanley, causing the lad to shy from the brightness, “and of course it would be you as well Stanley but who’s your new companion?” Donald declared as Lewis shut his eyes against the strong beam of light. “Lewis Smith?” Morris Donald shook his head and sighed, “I would have thought better of you than to mix with this crowd.” To which Lewis refrained from answering, lowering his head away from the accusation.

“Who owns the car?” the sergeant asked.

“I do,” said Frank with a laugh.

“You fucking liar Bolton, you got it from the tip,” the policeman barked.

“Well it’s mine now.”

“Then Frank Bolton, show me your registration papers and driving licence.”

“You know the answer to that officer, I don’t have any,” Frank cheekily answered.

“Okay everyone out.” The three obeyed with a stagger, Lewis sat at the roadside, knees up and head down as his stomach commenced to rebel. He managed to quieten it down.

“What can I smell?” the policeman asked.

“I guess carnations sergeant.” Bolton answered.

“Right, drunk driving, driving without a licence, driving an unroadworthy and an unregistered vehicle – Have I missed anything Mr. Bolton.”

“I guess not sergeant,” Bolton giggled.

The Sergeant’s voice deepened, as he stood away from the wrecked vehicle, calling back to the police paddy van parked some distance behind. “Open up constable we’ll have a full cell tonight.”

As the van returned to town Lewis noticed through the mesh covered window it didn’t take the turn towards the police station, instead it turned at the Graham pulling up outside John’s shop.

“What’s going on,” Jim spoke realising they were no where near the lock up.

“Fucked if I know,” answered Frank from his drunken state on the floor of the van, “I need a piss,” he moaned, then attempted to sit.

“Have to put a knot in it,” Lewis suggested from his position at the back of the police van.

“He hasn’t enough to knot. Jim laughed.

“Na, too late for that,” with difficulty Frank lifted to his knees, undone his pants and pissed against the van door. He laughed as a measure ran back towards Jim.

“Shit Frank what in fuck are ya’ doing.”

“Taking a piss, what do you think I’m doing?”

Moments later the van’s back door opened allowing the gathered urine to run out and down the policeman’s trousers with Frank Bolton still holding his dick and squeezing out what remained.

“You filthy bastard Bolton,” the sergeant shouted and pushed Bolton back allowing the last to soil the lad’s own clothing.

“Smith you get out here,” Donald demanded, his eye remaining on the still leaking and laughing Bolton.

Lewis avoiding the puddle stepped from the vehicle as the sergeant slammed the door on his mates.

“Smith this is your one and only warning,” Donald advised in a deep and commanding voice, bringing Lewis to humbly lower his eyes to the road’s surface while wishing the ground would open and receive him into its solid silence.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes sir.”

“Louder.”

“I heard you sir,” Lewis repeated in a higher tone.

“Get to bed and sleep it off.”

“Yes sir.”

“Hey what about us?” Bolton called from the inside of the van.

“Shut it Bolton, I haven’t finished with you yet.”

Once again the van sped away using its lights and sirens to maximise the effects and to make sure Winnie and John would know something was amiss, while causing as much embarrassment for Lewis as possible. It had success as Winnie met him at the door,

“What was all that about?” she asked quizzically while shaking the sleep from her head, her eyes not yet adjusted to the dullness of the distant street lamp.

“Nothing I’ll tell you in the morning.” Lewis sheepishly answered.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Only a little.”

“More than a little is my guess.”

“I met up with some of my old mates from school.”

“Some friends if they lead you into a police van.”

Winnie stepped aside to allow Lewis to pass but in doing so he fell against the wall of the passage. He nervously giggled, righted himself and burped while tasting the stale beer on his breath and feeling it regurgitate upwards. He held his breath to prevent it reaching further and the floor. It worked for a moment but in truth there was no way in holding it down for long.

“I’m disappointed with you Lewis.”

“I feel sick,” Lewis could feel the contents of his stomach held at the throat but the barrier could not last as once again it forced its way upwards, burning the back of his throat.

Winnie quickly retrieved a bucket, “use this and we’ll have words in the morning.”

Gary’s stories are all about what life in Australia was like for a homosexual man (mostly, long before we used the term, “gay”). Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net

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